


August 24th

by emonemo



Series: Untitled. [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Bullying, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Comedy, Emo, Gay, M/M, Mentions of Taylor Swift, PTSD, Pop-Tarts, Romance, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 53
Words: 169,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emonemo/pseuds/emonemo
Summary: Damien Cohen is one of the lead bullies in the high school. His parents are major criminals who run illegal trading. He is tall, muscular, and handsome, and all the girls in school want to be with him. Because of his lifestyle, Damien has a hard time with friendship and romance.Josiah Walker is one of the smartest students. He lives with his aunt, and he is well-known for being an easy target for bullies at school. His rough past has led him to be cautious and secluded from others. He is blind, but that doesn't really change anything.Damien enlists Josiah to tutor him and chaos ensues.Warnings: Child abuse, neglect, rape, violence, religion, drug use, alcohol use, use of slurs, homophobia, PTSD, bullying, suicide, guns, alcoholism, death.
Series: Untitled. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664233
Comments: 19
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Bullying, drug use, alcohol use.

Chapter 1  
Damien’s P.O.V.

-Monday, August 23rd-  
I watch as Ethan pushes the freshman against the locker.  
“Grab the other one.” He instructs me.  
I grab the freshman’s friend by the collar of his shirt and stare down at him.  
He looks fucking terrified.  
Good.  
“Why did you think you could get away with looking at me like that? Huh?!” Ethan snaps at the kid.  
Every new school year, Ethan, Hunter, and I like to establish our dominance and place in the school and select a random handful of freshmen to beat the shit out of, to show the other ones who’s in charge. As if everyone doesn’t already know about us.  
The rumors almost proceed us at this point.  
I punch the kid in the face, hitting his nose.  
Ethan smiles over at me.  
As long as he’s happy, I'm happy.  
“Let’s hurry up and beat the shit out of them. I wanna go smoke."  
“Awesome.” I say, not excited at all. I don’t know what it is, but I hate smoking. But if it’s what Ethan wants us to do, it’s not worth the fight.  
I stare the kid in his eyes as I grab him by the shirt collar and pull him closer. He didn't do anything, but his friend mouthed off to Ethan.  
“You should really watch who you hang out with. ”  
His eyes go wide and fill with tears, but I don't care.  
“P-please Damien, let me go…” He cries.  
No.  
He deserves this, and I deserve to feel something for a little bit.  
Something about my knuckles hitting skin, how powerful and in control, it makes me feel, how it makes confidence run in my veins. I’m a machine when it comes to physical things like this, and it’s one of the few times I can shut my brain off and let my body take over.  
“Please.” He cries up to me.  
I hit him in the jaw and he lets out a strangled cry.  
Good.  
…  
I hate the smoking and all that shit. But again, Ethan likes it for some reason. He says it helps him relax.  
Whatever, we all need something. With me it’s sex, beating the shit out of people, and secretly playing music when I’m at home, alone.  
If the guys found out about the music, they would make fun of me and make me stop for sure.  
So if it’s smoking and drinking for Ethan then so be it.  
Drinking helps, too, sometimes.  
He hands me the weed and I take it, inhaling and exhaling.  
I hate how it smells, let alone how it tastes.  
“Did you guys see Quinn? She got hot over the summer.” Hunter says as I lean against the wall.  
We’re generic highschool bullies. Smoking out behind the school.  
It’s not like the school gives a flying fuck about anything that actually happens. Kids get the shit beat out of them, and we smoke all sorts of shit out here and all the teachers are too big of pussies to do anything about it.  
We can do pretty much whatever the fuck we want to, with minimal consiquenes.  
I stare over at Hunter. “Yeah, is she going to the party tonight? If so, I call dibs.”  
I hate this...the weed and the parties.  
Parties are really loud, and I’d much rather drink at home with Ethan and Hunter, like we used too, but no.  
Now we have a reputation, and we have to go, or we’ll lose our edge.  
Now we show up at a party toghter, and then just split off and fuck some girl with daddy issues.  
I wouldn’t say I’m incredibly hot or model material or anything, but I'm not too bad.  
Dark brown, almost black hair and eyes, six foot four, and i work out almost everyday before bed. It helps me look scarier to the stupid people in this school, being strong.  
Not to mention the tattoos, earrings, and my entirely all black wardrobe, and my motorcycle.  
All just another part of this image we have to keep up.  
But the idea of leaving this group or any of the partying shit, is virtually unimaginable. I can’t imagine how Ethan would take it.  
“You can’t call dibs.” Ethan laughs.  
I look over at him. He has more of a threatening vibe than I do, and it’s not in what he wears, it’s in his eyes.  
He has deep green eyes that take in the world as it is, really fucked up.  
And he’ll do anything to crawl his way to the top.  
Sometimes, when he’s hurting people, I can see something really scary in his eyes. Something that makes me realizes there’s something fucked up in his head.  
Something I'm not going to cross, ever.  
If you can’t beat them, join them.  
He and Hunter are brothers, and look pretty similar.  
Wide shoulders and muscular bodies, with the odd tattoo here and there, light brown hair and a bad reputation.  
Not as bad as their home lives, from what I can tell.  
Way worse than mine.  
Because as controlling and painful as my parents can be, at least they love me.  
I don’t think Ethan and Hunters parents could give two shits about them.  
There's a reason when we hang out, that it’s always at my place.  
That, and the unlocked booze and the drugs we can find in the stash in the basement.  
As much as I hate the weed and the pills they bum off me, it’s better than not having friends.  
“I called her first.” Hunter adds. The girl, right.  
I stare down at the joint in my hands, and then at the tiny bit of blood on my knuckles the freshman left behind.  
“Bullshit. You just said she was hot. I call dibs.” I cross my arms after handing the joint back to Ethan.  
Maybe if I’m lucky, he won’t hand it back.  
“It was implied.” Hunter mutters.  
“You can have Mary,” Ethan laughs, “I know she has feelings for you or some shit.”  
He bats his eyelashes dramatically. “Oh Hunter you're so HOTTT.” He says in a high falsetto.  
Hunter punches him in the arm, smiling playfully. “Shut up. She does not.” He blushes slightly.  
I’m missing my history class for this…  
It’s the only class I semi-enjoy.  
That and English.  
“Maybe we should head back in, guys,” I say, looking up at the sky, “I think it’s going to rain.”  
“Bullshit. You just want to go flirt with Ms. Davis.”  
Ms. Davis is known among the students to sleep with the seniors if you need an A…  
All I’m going to say is I’m getting an A in the class, and so is Ethan.  
“...Whatever gets me an A, man...” I laugh, going to the door, “Are you guys coming, or what?”  
Hunter follows me, and we both stare at Ethan expectantly. “C’mon, you don’t want to have to repeat highschool a third time, do you?” I grin.  
“Shithead.” He mutters, throwing the joint to the ground and stepping on it to put it out, before begrudgingly following us inside.  
…  
I push through the people, drink in hand.  
There’s way more fucking people here than I expected.  
I hate parties, but any excuse to drink is fine with me.  
The music is so loud that it’s giving me a headache.  
I glance over and see Ethan making out with some chick on the couch.  
It’s hard to look away.  
It seems like there’s a party at Dirk's house every other weekend, his parents are never home.  
I glance around, taking another drink.  
I don’t see Hunter anywhere.  
He’s probably fucking Mary somewhere.  
Finally, I spot her.  
Quinn.  
Fuck, she did get hot over the summer.  
She’s in this tight, low-cut red dress, and all I can imagine is taking it off.  
Her body is nothing short of amazing, curves in all the right places, and with that dress and her dancing to the music, it’s really hard to miss her.  
She’s dancing with her friends, drink in hand.  
When I approach them, she looks up at me, surprised.  
But she doesn’t quit dancing. “Hey, Damien!” She yells over the loud music, “Dance with me.”  
I smile, shaking my head. ”Actually, this party’s kinda lame. Do you wanna get out of here?”  
I smile at her.  
“Yeah, of course! Bye, guys!” She waves dramatically to her friends.  
She’s drunk as FUCK.  
They all shoot her some winks, grinning at me.“Let’s go to my house.” She slurs.  
I down my drink and she grabs my hand, pulling me out of the loud house and into the dark.  
She gets her keys out of her purse and unlocks her car.  
I get in the passenger’s side and before I can even shut the door, she’s kissing me.  
I fumble my hand onto the door and pull it shut quickly, before putting my hands on her waist and pulling her into my lap.  
Now, this is a high I can fuck with. I’d much rather do this than be smoking, or whatever. This is the only reason I go to parties.  
She begins pulling my shirt off and I let her.  
I guess we’re just doing this right here then.

END


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mention of bullying, death, alcoholism.

Chapter 2  
Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Monday, August 23rd-  
School is so hard sometimes.  
Not classes, or homework, or any assignments. Those parts are all fun.  
It’s the classmates.  
They’re all dumbasses.  
Cruel dumbasses.  
Most of them are just mean.  
Especially to kids like me. Because I’m smarter than them, and I’m...easy.  
I’m such an easy target. For everyone.  
Logan Haas is one of the biggest school bullies. And I’m his main target. He beats me up and harasses me whenever he can.  
At least I don’t have to deal with others so often.  
Everyone hates me, but I’m apparently not enough for the big school bullies.  
Lisa Beck, Damien Cohen, Jennie Watson, Ethan Lewis, Dirk Phillips...  
No. Just the goons. Like Jacob Brown and David Hoult.  
The lists go on.  
I know everybody who goes to this school. And I can easily say that 2/3 of them are bad people.  
Anyway. Logan...  
Logan is brutal. He doesn’t hold back like most people do. Because his father is the principal.  
That’s why he’s on the list of the scariest school bullies. It’s not just me who thinks that.  
So, today, he managed to get to me. It’s been happening more and more often lately.  
He told me today that tomorrow is going to be much worse.  
I don’t know why he cares about me so much.  
There’s so many other kids in the school who could be his punching bag.  
That 34% of the school who are mildly good people. They’re the ones who usually get bullied. I’m not the only one.  
I’m just the rarity who isn’t good but still gets attacked.  
Whatever, though.  
It’s just because I’m not scary enough. Not like everyone else.  
Even the nice ones are scary.  
After Logan decides he’s done with me, I walk home as I do everyday.  
I’m used to being in pain by now. It doesn’t even bother me that much.  
I just wish people would keep their hands off of me. No more hits...  
That would be great. Paradise.  
I open the front door.  
Finally home.  
I hate home.  
Something immediately feels off, so I search the room with my eyes.  
I don’t know.  
I shut the door.  
“Hey, Josiah.” A voice says.  
I flinch at the sudden greeting.  
There’s someone on the couch. I don’t know who it is because I can’t recognize the voice.  
It’s not my aunt and that’s all that matters.  
“Who are you?” I ask cautiously.  
“You don’t remember me?” She asks.  
Should I?  
“I can’t see you.” I tell whoever the hell this is.  
“Oh,” She stands, “Glasses don’t work for shit, apparently.”  
“They c-can’t fix what happened...” I back up against the door, watching the girl intently.  
“Guess not. I’m your cousin. Alexa. Remember?”  
I blink at her a few times.  
My dad’s older brother. It’s his daughter.  
I haven’t seen her since they tried to place me in their family. Before they decided I would be better off with my aunt.  
Like, six years ago.  
No wonder I don’t recognize her. She was twelve back then.  
“Yeah. Why are you here? Where’s Aunt Dahlia?” I question.  
“She’s out right now. Me and Avery are staying here for a little while. Just a few days...or a few weeks. We don’t know. Dad’s in the hospital. There’s shit going on with his liver. Cirrhosis.” She explains.  
Hepatic cirrhosis. Liver damage. Scarring. It can’t be cured and it often leads to liver failure if untreated. It is also usually due to alcohol abuse.  
Their father is an alcoholic. He always has been. If you ask me, he had this coming.  
Their mom works so hard for them. To the point where she’s literally never home... I guess that’s why their daughters are staying here. Give the poor woman some relief from all the stress for a minute.  
I want kids. But I know they’re stressful as hell. My parents taught me that.  
“I hope it kills him.” I mutter.  
Then maybe people will learn. Alexa and Avery won’t drink if they see alcohol kill their father.  
At least, that’s how it should work.  
“I see why aunt Dahlia doesn’t let you talk. You’re a sociopath, you know that?” She huffs.  
“I am not. A sociopath would have delusions of grandeur and a lack of guilt or shame. I hate myself.” I correct.  
“...Whatever.” She sits back down on the couch and starts playing on her phone.  
I guess she is done with our discussion.  
Whatever.  
I start to go toward the couch, where I always sit after getting home to do homework.  
Then I realize she’s sitting there. Probably because she will be sleeping there.  
“Alexa...” I begin.  
“Yeah?”  
“Did aunt Dahlia tell you that you could have the couch?”  
She pauses, and I assume she’s shaking her head yes or no. I just stare blankly at her, awaiting a verbal answer.  
“Yeah. Because I’m the oldest. And Avery will be sleeping on the floor right here. Once we move the coffee table.” She says.  
I wrap my right hand around my left wrist to dig my fingernails into my skin.  
Damn it.  
“I...usually sleep there.” I tell her.  
“I don’t care. You can stay on the porch out front.” She replies.  
I would. But it’s dangerous.  
“...I’ll just sit in the corner.” I decide.  
At least until Aunt Dahlia gets back and she can figure this out for me.  
I walk over to the corner, stopping when my hand touches the wall. I sit down.  
This will be okay. As long as it doesn’t last too long. 

End


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
Damien's P.O.V.

-Tuesday, August 24th-  
I scuff my worn leather boots on the old yellow ceramic tile beneath me. I keep my eyes down and my headphones blast Taylor Swift in my ears. Don't judge. I like most of her music but particularly her album, Lover, It’s very underrated.  
I’m late for A.P. Chemistry, but I really don’t care. Honestly, I’m hardly passing most of my classes anyway. I continue down the hallway when a loud crashing sound interrupts my solitude. Whoever dares to interrupt my Taylor Time, they're going to get a beating. I pull one of my ear buds out and stop dead in my tracks, listening.  
I hear the distinct sound of a head banging into a hard metal locker.  
I know this sound all too well, because I've picked a lot of fights in my four years in this hellhole. At least I'm on my last year here...if I pass, that is.  
I might have to pull an Ethan and redo this year if I get too far behind..  
We've had so many lockers dented in by the nerds and stuff that they've had to replace them every couple of years. We’ve also had a lot of white suburban moms yelling at the PTA meetings about how their children are being bullied. But in high school, it’s eat or be eaten, and if you’re getting your ass kicked, it's just because you’re not good enough at surviving to get out of here unscathed.  
I should probably stay out of it. Whoever is getting their ass kicked probably deserves it…  
But, if I follow the sound, then maybe I can get in on the action. I haven't beaten anyone senseless in a bit. I need some stress relief, anyway.  
I walk down the hall toward the sound and as soon as I turn the corner I see Logan pushing some nerdy looking kid against the lockers.  
The kid looks terrified. His white baggy sweater has just as much, if not more blood on it than on his face. His hair is parted in the middle, it's a light brown, and in some lights could be seen as a very dirty blonde.  
I see a round pair of glasses on the ground beside where he’s being pinned. The frames are bent and the left lense has a big crack in it, as if Logan stepped on them or something.  
He’s not fighting back, and I'm not sure if it’s because he’s physically unable to, or if it’s because he's too much of a pussy. Normally, this is where I would join in and get some rage out of my system, but something about this fight doesn't sit right in my stomach.  
For one, I fucking hate Logan Haas. He thinks just because his dad is the principal, he can get away with being a dick.  
I want to beat his ass, and everytime me and Ethan go to do it, Hunter talks us out of it, because it’s not worth getting expelled over.  
I watch all hope leave his light blue eyes, and something weird snaps inside of me. Before I can think about it, I stalk over to Logan, who has his hand up and curled into a fist, ready to punch this kid again and I put a hand on his shoulder and spin him around to face me. The nerd notices me and I can see his face fall. He probably thinks I'm one of Logan’s buddies, and that I’m coming to join in on the fun.  
Granted, I'm not one of Logan’s buddies, but he wasn’t far off on the kicking his ass part.  
I’ve always hated Logan.  
He’s a pussy.  
At least the teachers and students are afraid of me because I’m scary,, not because they're afraid of my dad.  
He drops the kid, who crumples onto the ground, not moving or even attempting to get away. I don't know why, but all I know is I need to save this kid and not get my reputation tarnished in the process.  
Why the hell did I even come over here?  
What the fuck am I doing?  
"What the hell do you want, Cohen?" Logan sneers. Logan is the generic bully type, the big guy on the football team with a serious attitude problem, who just genuinely has a hate for people that he deems are lower than him in the social hierarchy of the high school. A different breed than me.  
I play it cool, despite the fear in my stomach. I’ve never stood up for anyone before and I sure can't start now. What if someone figures me out.  
Why did I stop him anyway?  
What makes this kid different than literally anyone else I’ve beat the shit out of?  
I need to think quickly, always have a backup plan for my backup plan, just one of the things my dad has instilled in me since birth, You can never be too cautious and you have to think quickly, work without hesitation until the jobs done. Granted I know this isn't some illegal scheme like he normally pulls, but a lot of those skills translate well into everyday life.  
My dad always taught me to trust my gut, and to  
"Who said you could beat his ass, huh?" I ask, trying to sound as threatening as humanly possible. I’m a little taller than him, maybe a few inches, He can't be any taller than six foot, if that. So, with my size advantage, social status as being a complete asshole who has no regard for anyone but himself, and the added overall scariness in my tone I should be fine.  
Logan looks concerned, meaning my menacing tone still works perfectly. This will be easy.  
"What?" He asks, a confused look in his eyes.  
"You heard me. Who said you could use MY personal punching bag?"  
He looks worried now.  
“Yours? Since when? He’s mine.”  
“Since right fucking now, asshole. Stay the hell away from him, or you'll be the next punching bag, you understand me?"  
Logan looks me up and down, as if deciding if the fight is worth it. He smiles and puts his hands up, as if in surrender.  
"Okay, he's yours. I was just warming him up for you."  
He kicks the kid in the ribs and says "You got lucky this time, fag."  
Did he say….?  
It doesn’t matter right now.  
There’s just something about this kid… Why the fuck did I stop Logan?  
What the hell am I doing? I’m going to be late meeting Ethan and Hunter.  
I keep referring to him as a kid, but he can't be anymore then a year younger than me at the most, but this guy just radiets “I need protected” vibes.  
"Get out of here." I say to Logan.  
I give him a glare and he books it out of the hall as quickly as his legs can carry him.  
I contemplate going after him, but then the ball of fabric at my feet lets out a moan of pain.  
Great. That's now my ball of fabric that I have to deal with.  
I have to get out of here. I can’t be seen helping anyone.  
“Hey! Why did you say I belong to you? I’m not yours, or anyone’s.” The fabric moans.  
I kneel down beside him and he flinches away, all bark and no bite.  
"I just really hate Logan, and like fucking shit up for him. I don’t care what you do, but don’t start going around and telling people I helped you out, alright?”  
Without those huge glasses he doesn't look so much like a dork, in fact he looks like any other kid you would see around here. I come to the realization that he could easily fit in if he wanted to. Why the fuck he chooses to look like a nerd and get beat up all of the time, I have no idea.  
I personally don’t think I've picked him as a target yet but he would definitely be a mark I would pick for sure. Lucky for him it's a big school and I can only pick on so many people at a time. But who knows, maybe I wouldn't be able to hurt him anyway.  
For once, I have the urge to protect someone instead of hurt them. I’ve never felt like that about anyone except my family, and that's a different type of loyalty.  
He squints up at me, as if he can’t see shit.  
“I can’t see shit. Where the hell are my glasses?”  
I look around to find them on the floor a bit away.  
I grab his bent frames and I bend them back to their normal shape the best I can before I hand them to him.  
He looks over at me, and his eyes… Oh my god, his eyes.  
I’ve never seen eyes so pretty...  
What the fuck? Where did that come from?  
Don’t get attached, Damien. Nothing good happens when you get attached to people.  
You have a plan. Finally fucking graduating and getting the hell out of town, not helping some lost, kicked puppy. Just fix him up and go.  
I stand and offer him a hand up.  
“...What? What do you want?” He questions.  
“Your hand, dumb-ass. It’s called fucking manners.”  
“Hell no. Back off.”  
I back up. “Okay, whatever. Sorry for trying to help. I won’t make that mistake again. Have fun getting your ass kicked.” I say going to walk away.  
“Why would you try to help, anyway?” He stands...barely.  
“What?” I say, turning back to him, “I didn’t fucking help you, I was fucking with Logan. What, are you blind, and deaf? We’ve been over this.”  
“No. Because Logan isn’t here right now, and you still tried to help. So, what the hell?”  
Shit.  
Um…  
“I didn’t help you. The bell’s about to ring. Go to class and forget this happened, unless you want me to make you forget.” I warn him.  
“...Okay. Thanks, Damien Cohen.”  
“Whatever.” I mutter under my breath as I go.  
Ethan’s going to wonder where I was.  
Lunch has already started.  
I join the guys at our usual table, that everyone steers clear of, except us, and the occasional girl we hook up with.  
Whatever blonde chick Ethan was with at the party last night, is sitting beside him, but Hunter is alone, shoveling in whatever shit they’re trying to pass off as food today.  
I sit my lunch down on the table and Hunter immediately asks, “Where were you?”  
Uh…  
Fuck.  
“I was saying hi to Quinn… I wanted to maybe...see her again sometime.” I smile.  
Last night was fun as hell, but I can’t get myself to focus on it.  
The girl sitting with Ethan is on his lap, playing with his hair, and saying something in his ear that makes him smile at her.  
“Wow, just fuck right here why don’t you.” I mutter to Hunter, who laughs.  
“Yeah, why don’t you two go get a room?” Hunter tells them.  
Ethan shoves at Hunter, who hits his hand away playfully.  
As much shit as Ethan gives me, or Hunter, he really does like us…  
Just in his own way. He’s always trying to look out for us.  
And if he knew what I was just doing with that kid…  
I look around the room and see that the kid’s sitting a few tables away from us, and is staring down at his hands.  
He doesn’t have any food or anything…  
But why the hell would I care?  
I look away and start eating the lunch Pierre packed me.  
At the risk of sounding like a rich asshole, Pierre is our...personal chef.  
My parents are rich as fuck, and decided, why the hell not hire someone to run the place and make us food.  
That’s Pierre.  
He’s been around for as long as I can remember.  
I don’t mind having someone to make me food, because the school food is disgusting.  
I try to focus on the conversation, but my mind keeps wandering back to the kid.  
I can’t help but keep peeking over at him.  
He’s the only one in the cafeteria that’s sitting alone.  
He doesn’t even fit in with the other losers?  
Tragic.  
But not my fucking problem.  
It’s not my problem that he’s not eating, it’s not my problem he’s alone, and it sure is fuck isn’t my problem if he’s getting fucking bullied.  
I need to quit thinking about him.  
…I wonder what his name is.  
…  
When I head to my last class of the day, Chemistry, which I understand not at all, I'm really really tempted to just skip.  
I’m probably already failing it anyway.  
Actually, I'mI'm going to fail my classes, II’m sure.  
At the end of the class, Mr. Jones, the new teacher, asks to see me.  
I guess he hasn’t gotten the memo from the other teachers that you’re just supossed to give me a good grade so i can get the fuck out of this school and not have to torment you another year.  
They learned their lesson with Ethan, because every teacher that failed him is miraculously giving him all A’s now.  
Just so he’s gone by next summer.  
Then I’ll be gone by next summer too.  
Thank god.  
“So, Mr. Cohen… If you continue at this rate, you’re going to fail this class, and your other classes. You seem like a bright kid. I’m sure that if you just worked harder, either with a teacher or a tutor, then you would excel.” The teacher tells me.  
“Bullshit,” I mutter under my breath, “I know you’re new here, but that’s not exactly how this works.”  
He smiles, “It’s how I work. If you don’t start working harder, I will fail you.”  
He can’t fail me.  
I can’t repeat high school again.  
I want to leave as soon as possible. The idea of staying here any longer… It fucks me up.  
“Whatever.” I mutter, leaving at that. Not bothering to ask if he’s done with me.  
Maybe I can get Hunter and Ethan to...razz him up a bit.  
Ethan tries not to mess with the teachers too much, though.  
Even he has some limits, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to repeat high school...again. He leaves them alone so they will pass him, so he can leave next year.  
Maybe I should just get a tutor and not have them even mess with this.  
Yeah. I’ll just...figure this out on my own.  
But I sure as fuck am not repeating the 12th grade. 

END


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Josiah's P.O.V.

-Thursday, August 26th-  
“Hey, Walker!”  
Fucking Logan Haas. Again.  
What the hell is it with everyone and calling people by their last names here?  
“Not right now, Logan.” I mutter.  
“Yeah, like you have a choice.” He grabs my arm and turns me to face him.  
“Make it quick.”  
“Shut up,” He scoffs, “What the fuck is going on with you and Cohen?! He said you were his, or whatever the fuck, but he left you alone all day yesterday and today. So, what the hell?!”  
“I don’t know. He told me that he only said that to fuck with you, because he hates you. Or something.” I shrug.  
He shoves me against the nearest wall and I wince upon impact.  
“He’s a dumb-ass anyway…” He mumbles.  
“I know,” I cut in, “He’s just as stupid as you and all the other assholes in this school.”  
I like to pretend that I don’t go around picking fights. A teacher asked me why I let myself get beat up so much and I told them that I’m just too weak to do anything.  
Truth is I can’t go five fucking seconds without fighting.  
“Seriously, shut the fuck up.” He warns.  
“Or what? What are you going to do to make me stop? I can take a hit, and you know it.”  
“I know I can make you cry.” He argues, moving closer.  
“Right, but so can an A-.”  
He shoves me back again, pinning me to the wall. I look up at him with wide eyes.  
He’s too close.  
Too fucking close…  
“I think you owe me an apology.” He says.  
“I think you should fuck off.” I retort.  
He lands a punch on my jaw, before dragging me onto the ground and started repeatedly kicking me.  
I just cover my head with my arms and wait for him to be done.  
As always.  
Just wait for it to stop…  
He stops after just a minute.  
What the hell?  
“Look who showed up.” He mutters.  
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear last time, asshole. I thought I told you to leave him the fuck alone.”  
Oh.  
Damien Cohen… What the fuck is wrong with him? Why is he doing this?  
I push myself up a bit, trying to watch them.  
“Funny. You don’t seem to give a shit about him until I get my hands on him. Is he your boyfriend?” Logan mocks.  
That’s dumb. I already told him that Damien is just messing with him.  
I back off a bit, unsure about what is going to happen here. Maybe I should leave.  
Damien immediately approaches him and punches him in the face.  
“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?! You’re such an ass!” Logan hisses.  
“Know your place, asshole. Be glad it’s just me this time. Next time you try to go against what I say, it will be me, Hunter, and Ethan beating the shit out of you! Get the fuck out of here!”  
“Whatever! Fuck…” Logan retreats, leaving us alone.  
I sit upright and look up at Damien. “Still trying to fuck with him?” I ask.  
“Yeah. Actually… I knew I helped you for a reason. I’m assuming you’re smart as fuck, right?”  
“Depends on what you mean by smart as fuck…?” I question.  
Am I smarter than him? Yes. Are most people? Also yes.  
I don’t think that makes me a genius or anything.  
He leans against the wall, like the tough guy he is. He’s probably crossing his arms, too. Y’know. To look cool.  
“Well. I’m sure you’re not surprised that I’m failing, like...everything. Except history. And I need...a tutor. So you’re going to tutor me.”  
“Yep. I know you’re a dumb-ass.” I confirm.  
I scratch at my arms a bit before pulling the white sweater sleeves over my hands.  
Yeah. It’s too hot for sweaters. Whatever. I don’t care.  
“Wait. You want me to tutor you? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. You just assumed that I’m smart? Why? Because I have glasses?” I stare up at him.  
Joke’s on him. I’m blind because of brain injuries. Not from whatever the hell makes other nerds blind.  
“No. You’re in one of my classes. I know you’re smart. You’ve got a lot of balls for someone I could fucking throw across the room. Just because I didn’t let Logan beat your ass doesn’t mean I can’t do it. Now. Are you going to help me, or what?”  
“First of all, I don’t care if you try to beat my ass. You’re not scarier than anyone else. Secondly… What classes are you taking?”  
If he needs help in any science stuff, then...maybe.  
If he’s expecting me to help in memory based classes, like the history that he’s apparently passing… Then he’s out of luck with me.  
I don’t like learning stuff like dates and the shit people used to do. Unless those people invented something.  
“I just need help in science and math...maybe Spanish. I’m not good at those. But I’m not fucking repeating high school. That’s for sure.”  
“Okay,” I force myself to stand, “I’ll think about it.”  
“You’ll think about it? I guess I didn't make myself clear. You’re helping me, whether you want to or not.”  
“I don’t have to do as you say. You’re not my dad or anything, dumb-ass. I glare at him.  
Who the hell does he think he is?  
“I don’t think you realize that I could make your life a living hell. You’re like, fucking five feet tall, and you can’t weigh more than 125. I could pound you into the ground. Don’t make me.”  
Just the fact that he hasn’t done anything yet tells me something. He’s been all bark and no bite with me.  
He isn’t as...bad...as I thought he was.  
“Try me. I have to go. I don’t have time for this. Maybe… Meet me tomorrow. I’ll give you the choice of us meeting either before or after school.”  
Let him think he has some freedom in this. Some options.  
“After.” He says instantly.  
“Okay. We’ll figure something out tomorrow after school, then,” I tell him, “Goodbye, Damien.”  
Damien…  
Damien Cohen…  
One of the biggest bullies in the whole school.  
He is comparable to the people who have hurt me the most in my life. He’s brutal, and big, and scary…  
He must be weaker than I thought. Considering he hasn’t even touched me.  
“Wait.” He stops me.  
“What?”  
“I… I don’t even know your name.”  
Oh, right.  
I guess that is mildly important.  
“Josiah Walker.” I tell him.  
“Right. See you tomorrow, Walker.” He says.  
Wait…  
...I made a mistake.  
He’s going to call me by my last name.  
Like everyone in this goddamn school does.  
Fuck my life. 

End


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
Damien's P.O.V.

-Friday August 27th-  
He’s late.  
He told me he would meet me here after school.  
I blew off Ethan and Hunter for this…  
If they found out I was meeting with some nerd, it would be fucking horrible.  
Well, it’s after school, and he’s not fucking here.  
The little shit is hiding somewhere…  
I curl my hands into fists and go back inside...  
I find him, and to my surprise he didn't blow me off…  
Well, at least he didn’t on purpose.  
I see Logan, and he’s kicking him on the fucking floor.  
Jesus Christ.  
He’s in the white sweater he was in yesterday, but it has an alarming amount of blood on it.  
He’s not moving either….  
Josiah. His name is Josiah.  
I don’t like it. I like Walker better.  
Josiah feels too...intimate.  
I stomp up to Logan and turn him around, and before he can even react, I punch him in the nose.  
“OW. SERIOUSLY. WHAT THE FUCK, COHEN?!”  
I hit him again.  
“Listen here, asshole. Stay the fuck away from him. This is your last warning.” I growl.  
“Why?! Jesus. Fuck.”  
“I’ve told you why. Get the hell out of here right now.” I let go of his shirt and push him back, away from Josiah's limp body below me.  
Jesus Christ is he dead?  
“Whatever.” He mutters as he walks away.  
I crouch down beside Josiah and pause a moment before hesitantly grabbing his wrist, to check for a pulse.  
His skin is so fucking soft.  
What the hell?  
He’s alive… so that’s something.  
I drop his hand immediately after, and I contemplate waking him up.  
I check the time…  
Anyone that would be getting out of detention, or extracurriculars, will be getting out. Really fucking soon.  
I…I guess I’ll take him home?  
I look around and find his glasses on the floor. They’re really cracked. But i’m sure he’ll still want them.  
I slip his backpack onto my back with mine, and then I pick up his limp body as gently as possibly.  
He’s really light, like light enough to make me worry.  
Why the fuck should I care?  
I shake my head and carry him out to my motorcycle.  
Fuck.  
How the fuck am I getting him home?  
I guess I can walk? I’m only a ten minute drive.  
Fuck, I guess I’m carrying him home.  
But if my parents saw me…  
I don’t know what else I would do.  
I guess I have too.  
I shift the bags on my back and walk quickly home, hoping to god my parents aren’t there…  
They never are, but this would be the one time… with my fucking luck.  
I take him into the house and straight up into my room, laying him down on the bed.  
I have a boy in my bed…  
A very bloody, unconscious boy….  
It’s alarming.  
I need to figure out where the blood is coming from.  
I need to...take his sweater off.  
Fuck.  
I sit him up gently and slip the sweater off over his head.  
I lay him back down and look over him slowly, checking for wounds.  
And holy shit, he has so many bruises…  
What the fuck has Logan been doing to this poor kid?  
But it doesn’t matter.  
I don’t care. I just need him alive to tutor me.  
That’s it.  
It looks like the only reason he was bleeding was from his nose to be honest, and as fucked up as the bruising is, I can’t do anything about it.  
I go into my bathroom and get a wet washcloth, and I gently wipe the blood from his face.  
As soon as he’s cleaned up, I pull a blanket over him.  
There’s nothing else I can do, but hope he wakes up.  
….  
He wakes up, and when he does, He sits directly up, and is screaming when he does so.  
“Jesus fucking christ.” I say, jumping up off the couch, rushing over to him. “What the FUCK, dude?!”  
“W-What...the hell is going on?!”  
“I don’t know! Why the fuck are you screaming?!”  
“Where am I?! D-Damien…?”  
Oh. Right. he can’t see very well.  
“Yeah. You’re at my house. In my room.”  
“Why?”  
“Cause.” I say sitting back down on the couch across from the bed.  
“What’s wrong with you? I’m serious.”  
“Fine. You were supposed to meet me outside of school, and when you didn’t, I was going to come beat your ass, but Logan got there first. So I punched him and brought you here.”  
“Let me guess. You just really need me to tutor you, right?”  
“What else would it be, asshole?”  
“I don’t know what you could do… There’s other kids who could tutor you, dumb-ass.”  
But…. it has to be him.  
“Yeah, but you’re smarter than the other kids.”  
Lie.  
Why AM I picking him over anyone else?  
“I’m not. So what the hell d-do you actually want from m-me…?”  
“The tutoring. that’s it. I’m not playing some sort of fucked up joke on you, i’m just trying to not have to retake 12th grade.” I lean forward and look over at him.  
He looks so terrified.  
And ...still shirtless.  
“Y-You’re not gonna hurt me?” He asks cautiously.  
“Not if you don’t give me a reason to, no.”  
“So, you will.”  
I sigh. “No. I won't. Okay?”  
Whatever it takes to get him to shut up.  
“Okay… Where’s… Where’s my s-sweater?!” He immediately starts panicking again.  
“Relax. It’s in the wash. Pierre is trying to get the blood out of it. He’s practically Jesus when it comes to that sort of shit.”  
“W-Who’s Pierre? No. No, you don’t understand. I need it. Give it back.”  
“...Do you want to just borrow one of mine? God. I’m going to give it back, chill.”  
“Give me s-something! What the hell…?!”  
I get up and go to my dresser, grabbing a random black tee-shirt and then tossing it to him. It lands beside him on the bed.  
“What was that?!”  
“Jesus, are you that fucking blind?” I say coming over to the bed beside him. I grab the shirt and hold it out. “Here. Take it.”  
He stares at it blankly. “...Is this something you do a lot?” He asks before taking the shirt and pulling it on over his head.  
It’s very big on him.  
I like how it looks on him…  
I shake my head.  
“Picking up strays? Not normally, no.”  
“If you were worried because I was hurt, or whatever, you should have just brought me to a doctor. You know.” He cracks a slight smile.  
…He's really cute when he smiles.  
I can’t think about that.  
I shake my head and scowl in return, not that he can see it probably.  
“ I didn’t know what to do, I panicked.” I admit. Taking care of people is not exactly my cup of tea.  
”That’s nice.” He remarks.  
“Nice? what?”  
Why the fuck would he call me nice?  
“Relax. I’m kidding. Just trying to scare you.”  
“...Right. Well, it didn’t work.” I lie, holding his glasses out to him. “Here. Your glasses.” I explain. It’s hard to remember to have to say stuff instead of just...doing it.  
“You sounded surprised.” He says as he takes them and sips them on, blinking up in my direction.  
Not only are his eyes beautiful, he has really long eyelashes too.  
“Bullshit. You don’t know me. How would you know if I was or wasn’t surprised?”  
“I know what people sound like when they’re surprised. You aren’t different than anyone else.”  
Suddenly there’s a knock on the door.  
“What was that?!”  
I rush over to the door and open it just enough to peek out.  
“It’s only me.” Pierre says as he peeks at me.  
I sigh in relief as he says, “I’m still working on the sweater, but your parents requested that you join them for dinner… When I told them you had a guest, they insisted you bring him down, too.”  
Pierre looks in the room around me and smiles at Josiah. “It’s nice to meet you, Josiah. Damien’s told me a lot about you. It’s nice to see Damien bringing friends over here, that aren’t girls.” he says giving me a pointed look.  
“Stop it!” I groan at him and he laughs. “When’s dinner then?”  
“Seven. You guys have a little bit of time still. I just figured I would warn you.”  
“Thanks. See you then.” I say, shutting the door.  
I turn to Josiah, who’s smiling now.  
“Who was that?”  
“That’s…Pierre. He’s like, I dunno, our…butler? For lack of a better word. That sounds douchey as hell, but he kinda runs the place.”  
“You have a butler…?!”  
“Yep. Well, I guess you’re staying for dinner, because I'm not fighting my parents on it, unless you are?”  
“For dinner…? I don’t want to. I’ll stay up here.”  
“Too fucking bad.”  
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”  
“I’m not just leaving you up here. C’mon, you don’t tell my parents no.”  
I go to the bed and offer him a hand up.  
He just stares at my hand.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Offering you a hand up, good lord.”  
“Don’t touch me.”  
“Okay.” I shrug and step back. “Let’s go. Get up then.”  
He stands, wincing as he does so. “Alright…”  
I ignore him and walk to the door. He stays standing by the bed.  
“C’mon Walker, I don’t have all day.”  
“Don’t call me that. My name is Josiah.”  
“I’ll call you whatever I want. Let’s go.”  
This isn’t worth getting yelled at over. Mom’s very particular about having dinner together, and us being on time.  
He follows behind me slowly, limping slightly.  
Jesus Christ. He looks like he’s going to fall over.  
I stop at the top of the stairs and look back at him.  
“Be careful, we have a shit-ton of stairs here. The handrail is on your right.”  
“Where are they?”  
“The stairs? A few steps in front of you.”  
This is sketchy. “Do you want me to put your hand on the railing?”  
“No. I already said don’t touch me.”  
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “What the fuck do you want me to do then? Find it yourself.  
I start going down the stairs.  
I need to quit trying to be nice, if he’s only going to be an asshole. I need to remember, I'm sure as hell not his friend. He’s only means to an end.  
“Okay. Fine.”  
I stop and watch him at the bottom of the stairwell, terrified he’s going to fall, but not saying anything.  
He puts his hand out and finds the railing and takes his time, going slowly down the stairs.  
When he gets to the bottom I say, “About fucking time. C'mon, then.”  
He follows me into the dining room, and I see that my dad is sitting down already, glass of wine in hand.  
“Damien! How was school?”  
“It was school. Fucking awful.” I say, sitting down at the table on his right side.  
He laughs. “I was the same way when I was your age.”  
Josiah stands behind me awkwardly.  
“And you must be Josiah. Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the chair beside me, not that Josiah can see him.  
I pull the chair out for him in emphasis, and he sits beside me cautiously.  
“So, Josiah, you go to school with Damien, I assume? Are you a freshman?” My dad asks, passing the bottle of wine my way.  
Ever since I was 16, they’ve said I was “Man enough” to drink with them, a glass of wine at dinner sort of thing.  
As if I didn’t sneak it since I was like 12.  
It’s not like they were here to stop me.  
I pour myself a glass.  
“No. Junior.” Josiah corrects.  
Hmm. Just by looking at him I would have figured he was a freshman or sophomore, at the most.  
I look over at him, and hold the wine out. “Want some?” I smirk.  
He doesn’t seem like the type.  
“What is it?”  
“It's an…” I squint at the bottle, “California, 2013 Chardonnay.”  
“What?”  
“Wine.” I laugh.  
“Alcohol?! How old are you? You can’t drink that.”  
“18. And yes, I fucking can.”  
My dad just raises an eyebrow at us, before looking at his phone.  
He’s cool.  
“No, you really can’t.”  
My mom walks in and I smile. “Hey mom!”  
She’s on her phone too. Must be work related. “Hey.” She says, not even looking up.  
“Nice to see you, too.” I murmur, slouching in my chair, drinking my wine.  
Josiah is just staring at me, or more specifically, the wine.  
“Don’t be rude. And sit up.” She says to me.  
I do, and she smiles brightly at Josiah.  
“It’s nice to meet you, since Damien didn’t introduce us.” She shoots a disapproving look my way.  
“You, too…” He mumbles.  
Pierre brings the food out and they only eat for 10 minutes before their phones start blowing up.  
Dad stands up and ruffles my hair as he passes. “Sorry kid...work emergency.”  
Mom gets up, too, and they leave their food untouched.  
As soon as they go, I finish my drink and reach over the table, pouring my mom and dad’s wine into my glass.  
“Welp, it’s a shame to let this go to waste.”  
“Why did he say emergency? What happened?”  
“Hell if I know. There’s some sort of emergency like every night.”  
“Do they work at a hospital or something?”  
“No, they work in...stocks. It’s a...stock market emergency.” I take another drink of my wine.  
“Oh. Okay.”  
I stare down at my untouched food in silence, pissed that they can’t sit down for one fucking meal. For god’s sake, Pierre made all this shit and they don’t even eat it 89% of the time!  
“...Do I have to eat this?” Josiah asks.  
Pierre walks in and sighs, looking at the empty plates. “Work emergency?” He asks me.  
“Of course.” I say.  
He stares at the wine in my hand. “Is the food not good?”  
I take a bite. “It’s pretty fucking good. It’s always good, you know how they are.”  
“Thank you, Damien.” He smiles.  
“Of course man. Have you eaten? Cause, they didn’t even touch it, if you want to sit down for a minute.”  
“Oh, sure. Josiah, do you not like the food? I can make something else for you.”  
“I don’t know what it is.” Josiah murmurs softly.  
“It’s steak. And veggies.”  
“Veggies? What kind?”  
“The green kind. Just eat it or Pierre will cry.”  
Pierre rolls his eyes and sits at my moms food across from me. “Are you going to drink all of the wine?”  
“I’m tempted.”  
“Give me a glass first.”  
I pour him one, then sit the bottle back beside me.  
“So, Josiah, what are your plans? After highschool?” Pierre asks him, starting in on the steak.  
It is really fucking good.  
“College.”  
I laugh. “What college? And for what?”  
“I don’t know. Whatever college is within walking distance from my house. And something science, like physics or chemistry.”  
I guess he wouldn’t drive, considering…  
“Where do you live? Do you walk to school then?” Pierre asks. “You don’t drive? How old are you?”  
“I- uh… I always walk to school, yeah. I don’t have a car, or anything… And I’m sixteen.”  
“I thought you said you were a junior? You are smart, liar.” I stare at him.  
“I skipped a year in middle school. That doesn’t make me a genius. I just really like school.”  
“Whatever.”  
“What about you, Damien? How is school going?”  
“Fucking shit.”  
“That bad, huh?”  
“Yuh. This loser is supposed to tutor me.”  
“Well, he’s not going to if you’re an ass about it.” Pierre laughs.  
“No, it’s okay. I’ll do whatever he wants.” Josiah says.  
“Don’t let him push you around like that. He’s not as big and scary as he thinks he is.”  
“Yes, he is.” Josiah says looking at his hands in his lap.  
Good. Let him be afraid.  
“Okay, I’m done with my drink, want me to take you home?” Isay, standing up.  
“You can’t.”  
“Why the hell not?”  
“Because you’re drunk.”  
“I’m not drunk. I’ve had like…three glasses.”  
Pierre raises an eyebrow at me. “Tipsy driving is drunk driving.”  
“I’m not tipsy, either. Dammit! Get up, I’ll take you home, you’re not staying here.”  
“He’s right, Damien.” Josiah sides with Pierre.  
Why the hell is he taking sides with him?!  
Bitch.  
“Why don’t I take you guys?”  
“You don’t have to…”  
He waves me off. “No. I insist. I don’t like you driving like this, anyway.” He gets up. “I’ll have Damien bring you your sweater as soon as it’s clean. It was really bloody.”  
Josiah looks down, as if realizing he’s not in his clothes. “Maybe we should just wait.”  
Like hell I’m bringing him the sweater to school. “Yeah.” I agree.  
“It’s in the wash. It will be awhile.”  
I stare over at Josiah, “It’ll be awhile. I’ll just...bring it to you.”  
“I don’t know how long I can stay, but I don’t want to leave without it.”  
“Come on man. It’s just a sweater. I’ll bring it back.” I look at my phone.  
Ethan has texted a million times. There’s a party.  
“I have to go. I’ll go get your backpack from upstairs and we’ll head out.”  
I leave him with Pierre, going up the stairs and quickly getting all his stuff, meeting them at the door.  
“Thanks for driving.” I say to Pierre as we head out to his car.  
“No problem.”  
“I call shotgun!” I say running to the front and hopping in.  
They get in, and Josiah climbs in the back. I hand him his bag and Pierre asks him, “Where do you live?”  
“Oh. I… I don’t know how to get there from here.” He replies.  
“Well, guess you’re living here.” I say, leaning my head against the window, “C’mon guys, I have plans!”  
“I don’t know where to go.” Pierre says.  
“I don’t know!” Josiah shrugs.  
“Jesus Christ. You said you walk? Can you get us there from the school?”  
“...Yeah, maybe.”  
“Okay. Cool.”  
Pierre drives us to the school, and Josiah gives us directions back to his house.  
It’s really small.  
Like, really, really small.  
“Okay, here we are,” Pierre says, “Walk him up, Damien.”  
“What? Why?”  
“Because, it’s polite.”  
I groan and get out, opening Josiah’s door for him. “C’mon, loser.”  
He gets out. “You don’t have to walk me to the door, you know.”  
“Pierre said. so I do.” I say, walking with him up to the small house. “Shit. We didn’t plan any tutoring stuff.”  
“I’ll see you Monday. Right now, let’s just say… Sometimes, after school, we go to your house to study. Okay?” He suggests.  
“Sounds good to me.” I say, stopping at his door. “Bye. I guess.”  
“Bye.” He opens the front door.  
I watch him go in, then I run back to the car.  
“He’s really cute.” Pierre says to me.  
“What?” I say, shutting the door.  
“He’s nice to you, you should be nicer to him.” He says, starting the car.  
“Whatever. I have a party to get to. Wanna just drop me off there?”  
“No. If you want to do things like that, you have to go yourself. I’m taking you home.”  
“Okay.”  
We ride the rest of the way home in silence.

End.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
Josiah's P.O.V.

-Monday, August 30th-  
I’ve been trying to find Damien all day.  
It’s pretty much to the point where I bet he’s hiding from me.  
He’s the one who started all of this in the first place. Then he just goes all day without contacting me at all.  
It’s lunch time when I finally find him, about to go sit down somewhere.  
Dressed entirely in black, as usual.  
“Hey, what’s going on? I thought you would approach me some time during the day, but I looked around for you and I couldn’t even find you…” I tell him, following closely behind him.  
He pauses as soon as I start talking. “Why the hell are you talking to me...in front of everyone?”  
“Um. Because you told me to? You wanted to talk. About the whole tutoring thing.” I remind him.  
“Not here! Go away. I’ll meet you after school.”  
Why after school? What’s wrong with now?  
“I-... Why not here?”  
“Because I said! Leave! Ethan and Hunter heading over here! I will talk to you later!”  
Um…  
“Okay. But we can’t talk for long after school. I have to get home.” I say.  
I was really hoping that I could just follow him around whenever I want. That would make school a lot easier. If he scared everyone off.  
I guess I should just go sit down and do some homework, as usual.  
“Whatever. Bye.” He says, leaving.  
Cool.  
I really hope he finds me after school, because looking for him was a pain.  
He’s just a big blur of black clothes.  
It’s easier than if I was trying to look for anyone else. But it’s still hard.  
I go sit down and pull schoolbooks out of my bag. I might as well go ahead and do the homework that was assigned this morning. Or I could study for any pop quizzes that may or may not happen in the near future.  
I wonder why Damien doesn’t want to talk.  
Because of his friends…? Would the other big bullies just despise that?  
Right. Because people like Damien just can’t involve themselves with people like me at all. That would be insane.  
I bet he would get shunned. Which is, of course, the worst thing… At least, for people like him.  
People who focus on absolutely nothing in life except for their friends.  
As if anyone he hangs out with actually likes him. That’s what is the most fucked up with people like that.  
People pleasing..  
Giving up everything to make someone else happy. It’s stupid.  
The type of people he surrounds himself with don’t like anyone. If he did anything they didn’t like, they would drop him immediately. Because they don’t care about anything.  
I would assume that hanging around with anyone like me would fall into that category.  
I open one of the schoolbooks, but I can’t possibly bring myself to focus on it enough to read it.  
Why would Damien let Ethan and Hunter Lewis be his friends?  
…  
It’s after school.  
I can’t stand here forever. My aunt told me to be home for dinner, which means she is in a good mood. I can’t pass that up.  
Especially not for Damien. He isn’t worth it.  
No one is.  
I pull on my sleeves. I don’t really think he is coming.  
I already know that his friends would hate this, and that he is someone who just does whatever his friends want him to…  
There’s no way he’s actually coming.  
I don’t have time to stand here and act like he will. Almost everyone has already left. I need to leave, too.  
Forget this. It was stupid anyway.  
“Hey, loser.”  
OH.  
“Why did you make me wait here for like, forever?” I question.  
“School let out ten minutes ago. It wasn’t that long. Besides, I had to wait till my friends left.”  
“Right. The friends… The ones who would definitely abandon you for this. Those friends.” I nod.  
“No they wouldn’t… They just would be confused is all… It’s not worth a fight or anything.”  
Of course he thinks that.  
“Well, okay. Whatever. We need to discuss the tutoring thing real quick then I have to go.” I say.  
“What’s the rush?”  
“Just...dinner. Nothing. What do we need to talk about? Like, did you have any questions? Do you want to start the actual stuff tomorrow after school? And it’ll be at your house, right?”  
“I can’t do Tuesdays or Thursdays. Or Saturdays. but I’m free the rest of the time.”  
“Okay. Just Wednesdays and Fridays, then. Does that sound good?”  
“Sure. Just after school at my house. I can drive you, but we’ll have to wait till ten after, so no one sees. Just gimme your number, that way I can text you when I need to talk to you while I’m at school. You can’t just approach me, okay?”  
“Don’t worry. I won’t ruin your reputation,” I promise, “I don’t have a phone or anything.”  
“You don’t have a phone. Of course.” He mutters. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday after school.”  
“And I guess I won’t approach you until then. And you won’t be trying to chase off Logan anymore or anything, are you?”  
“Um. Probably not?”  
“Okay, good. Because that was weird.”  
“Sorry for helping,” He huffs, “I have to go… Do you want me to drive you home?”  
...What?  
“Really?” I ask cautiously.  
“Yes, really. Unless you want to walk and risk being late...for dinner.”  
I stare at him blankly for a moment.  
Seriously, why the hell is he so nice?  
“I don’t have all day, Walker. Are you coming or not?” He asks, walking away.  
“Are you trying to kidnap me?” I ask him.  
“If I was going to kidnap you, I would have done it already.”  
I start following after him. “That’s disappointing. Your house was huge.”  
“I can kidnap you and force you into slave labor, if you want.”  
“Cool. I don’t know how to cook or anything, but I guess you already have your butler for that.” I smile at him.  
“What, you mean Pierre? It sounds weird, calling him a butler, but I guess.”  
“Yeah, okay. I’ll call him Pierre then,” I attempt to walk faster to keep up with him, “You walk too fast.” I inform him.  
“You walk too slow.” He says, slowing a bit.  
I still feel like he is too far away.  
But, of course, as soon as I try to get closer, he stops.  
I walk right into his back.  
“Why did you stop?!” I question, quickly taking a step back.  
We’re standing by a motorcycle.  
Oh, those things are the worst.  
“I’m glaring at you, by the way.” He tells me.  
“Why? You're the one who stopped right in front of me, asshole.”  
“You were walking too close!”  
“I can’t tell how close I am! You need to...pay attention to that, or something. I’m not going to notice.”  
“Right, you’re blind as fuck. Got it.” He says, getting on the motorcycle.  
...What?!  
“No.” I say after a moment.  
“No what?”  
“Why do you have that thing? It’s a death trap. It could get you killed. You could die.” I rant.  
“I hope so. Get on.”  
“Don’t say that. It’s not a joke. And I don’t know… It’s dangerous.”  
“It wasn’t a joke. I’ll drive slower, if you want.”  
I watch him as I contemplate it, pulling my sleeves over my hands.  
“Are you good at driving it?” I go on.  
“I have my license, and I’ve been driving it since I was sixteen, and before you can ask, I haven’t been in a wreck.”  
“Not yet. There’s always time.” I remark.  
“We can only hope. C’mon, I’m not waiting all day.”  
“Stop saying that! I’ll get on. Fine.” I go up to it.  
I place my hand on the seat thing behind him.  
There should be seatbelts or something like that on these things.  
I pull myself up onto it.  
“You don’t have a helmet on.” I point out.  
“Never do. Hold onto me or you’ll fly off and die...hopefully.”  
“What’s wrong with you?”  
He laughs, “How much time do you have? I thought you had to get home?”  
“Yeah, I do,” I mutter, before sighing and forcing myself to wrap my arms around him, “Just stop making jokes about people dying, okay?”  
He doesn’t immediately answer, ruining the back and forth banter we had going.  
He doesn’t start the bike up, either.  
...Is he okay?  
“What? Why aren’t you going?” I ask him softly, pressing my face against his jacket.  
Leather. Bet it makes him look cool.  
He clears his throat. “Right, sorry.”  
“You’re weird.”  
“No, you’re weird.” He says, starting the bike up.  
I wince, “Why’s it so loud?”  
“Cause. It’d be wimpy if it wasn’t”  
“I think it’s awful. The whole thing is awful. You should get rid of it.  
Motorcycles are all awful.  
Have you ever seen a motorcycle accident? Blood, brains, and guts everywhere... Decapitated heads...  
No way am I letting that be me! I’m holding on tight and screaming at top volume if he even dares to risk my life.  
“You’re awful. I should get rid of you.” He retorts.  
“Might as well. Everyone else does. You can kill me, if you want.”  
“Jesus Christ! I was joking.”  
“Oh. Don’t make any jokes at all.”  
“Okay, whatever.” He says starting to move the thing.  
It’s going to be hard to get used to the things he says, but…  
I don’t know.  
I really feel like it might be worth it.

End


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
Damien's P.O.V.

-Tuesday, August 31st-   
Tuesday and Thursday nights are reserved for family time, and by family time, I mean learning how to run my parents’ drug company.  
I know. That went from 0 to 100 really quick.   
It’s wrong in most people’s eyes, because it’s against the law, but I've been an accomplice since birth, and like my dad says, selling drugs to people isn't wrong per say, you’re just giving people options that shouldn’t be held back from them.   
Free will.   
My mother is extremely religious, and says God gave us all free will for a reason, so we could choose to follow him, or some shit.  
She makes it fit into her lifestyle choices.  
But if I was God, I would just sit back and let shit happen. No rules, no fucking shit up, just chill and watch humanity fuck itself time and time again.  
It seems like a fun eternity.  
But then again, how do we know we’re the first earth? Or first race of humans?  
Religion has always been in my life, but I’ve never considered myself a part of it.  
But Hell seems pretty fucking terrifying, that’s for sure.  
Let’s hope it’s not real, because my good doesn’t outweigh shit.  
I drive home, curious to see what my Dad has planned for me to learn/do tonight.  
It’s definitely a shock to go from semi-shitty school anywhere from drug dens and high brow nightclubs.  
Mom wanted to pull my out of high school and make me jump into the company head on, but thankfully my dad is not an idiot. He said I’ll just join as soon as I graduate.  
I, on the other hand, have different ideas.  
I’ve been saving back money ever since I was a kid. In a bank account they don’t know about that I made myself, one that my parents don’t know about. There’s enough in there to move far away from here, and to go to college, if I want to.  
I still haven’t decided if I’m going to or not. I figure it’s better to have money saved and not need it.  
I drive Josiah home, then quickly speed back to the house, where my dad is waiting.  
I don’t see him except for on training days.  
"Hey, dad!" I say, dropping my backpack beside the door.  
"You’re later then normal." He says, looking up from his phone. He’s a stickler for timing and planning, a lot like me. He's a side effect of having to run an entire underground drug pushing operation, I’m sure. And he has to deal with the front businesses, some of which are actual, popular businesses in town.  
Like he's told me. The more we're in, the less suspicious it all seems.  
"Sorry. I had to drop...a friend off at home."  
Josiah sure as hell isn't my friend, but if I said the kid that's tutoring me that I’m forcing to accept it, it could raise a few questions.  
"Was it the one that ate with us earlier this week?" He asks, leading me down to the basement.  
I blink, taking my time to word everything right.  
"Yeah. He's fucking smart, and helping me pass science and math."  
"He looks like the kind of kid you would target, not one you would befriend, much less drive home." He says, raising an eyebrow at me.  
"...You know about that?"  
He laughs, “Of course. I know everything you get up to. We've gotten a few calls from the school about you, and from a few angry parents, but nothing we can't handle. It's funny. I know you can get mad, but I’ve never seen you as an aggressive person. I'm not going to do anything about it, I’m just curious what you get out of it?"  
…Get out of it? What do I get out of it?  
"An adrenaline rush, for starters." I smile.  
He shakes his head, laughing again, “You're more like your mother than either of you care to admit."  
He confuses me sometimes.   
"So, we don’t have a meeting or anything today? We're not going into the office?"  
He shakes his head as he leads me into the gym we have downstairs. It's pretty big, and a standard looking gym, except for the target range at the end.  
When I was eight, for my birthday, my mom got me a set of throwing knives.   
Obviously, a fucked up gift for an eight year old, but this was the signal that they were going to start preparing me to run the company once I turned twenty.   
That’s when my great grandpa passed it to my grandpa, then my grandpa to my dad when he was of age.  
Now it falls to me.  
If I left... My parents wouldn't ever stop looking for me.  
But like I said, it's just a backup plan.  
I've been taking out large sums off my card every month since I got the knives. As soon as I was old enough to make my own bank account, I did, stuffing all the money in there.  
My parents don't know about it, but I didn't think they knew about the bullying either.  
I need to be more careful.  
Always be on edge, never trust anyone no matter what.  
Dependency and comfort is weakness.  
Weak.  
Never be weak.  
My mom has always told me and dad I'll never be good enough. That I'm too weak, too soft.  
So I've always tried to prove her wrong.  
Some days I wonder why fucking bother? Why try to impress her?  
Because I'll always crave any sort of love from her. And the only time I get that is when I'm doing as I'm told, and being a good son. A good weapon.  
Dad on the other hand is kinder. He still has me train harder and harder, but he puts limits on mom.  
He makes sure she doesn't take things too far.  
Without him I have no doubt that I would have tried to kill myself, if only to escape her.  
She's fucking crazy.  
My dad snaps me out of my thoughts, "Let's start on the punching bag. Get warmed up for the night."  
I throw myself into my training as I always do.  
This has always been nice. Training. Whenever I'm doing something physical it almost gives me the same thrill I get when I hurt someone.  
That adrenaline, being able to throw myself into something physical and just shut my mind off for only a second.  
My brain is.... Something else.  
Annoying.  
But it's always trying to calculate ten steps ahead, always trying to plan, always having a plan and a backup plan and a backup backup plan.  
I can't control everything. But anything remotely in my control, I keep it there.  
I can't stand the unknown.  
The uncertainty that comes with it.  
Anything that doesn't have a plan.... Anything spontaneous is fucking terrifying.  
And the fact that I can't control everything fucks me up.  
Most times, the thoughts get so loud all I want to do is shut them out. If only for a moment.  
Training and working out can do that for me.  
And being muscular helps with the scary factor.  
So that's nice.  
After that, we move to cardio.  
Then weights.  
And then some. All of it achieving that goal.  
As much as I like to complain about having this allotted time, it's really nice to get to spend time with my dad.  
With everything he has his hands in, I should appreciate that he has any time for me at all.  
But a selfish part of me wishes we could do something that didn't involve training at all sometimes.  
Even when I was small, before I did my training, my dad set it up like a game.   
He made a scout troop.  
And by troop, I mean he made one just us.  
He even went to the lengths to do patches and everything.  
I think he felt bad for pulling me out of soccer so I could start working.  
I loved soccer. And I wasn't bad at it, either.  
Our team made it to championships.  
And then I got pulled out and away from all my friends.  
That was right around the Parker incident.  
And after that, Mom wanted to even pull me out of school, not to mention the useless extracurriculars.  
After we finish the workout portion, we move to knife throwing and shooting practice.  
My aim is impeccable.  
Always has been.  
Yet, he makes me practice every night that we're training downstairs.  
If you don't practice it, you'll lose it.  
And if you lose it, you're weak.  
Always weak.  
Always weak.  
Never good enough.  
Be better.  
Be more.  
Improve.  
Always.  
I shoot the target in the head again, still hating the cold metal in my hands.  
The gun is like an extension of my arm at this point, but I'll always be more comfortable with my knives.  
They don't scare me when I hold them.  
They don't make me contemplate how easy it would be to just put the barrel to my head and... Boom.  
I shake my head and unload my chamber into the target's head, each one so precise and on top of one another, that it only looks like I shot one bullet.  
Perfect.  
Once I put my gun down my dad looks at the target.  
"Off by a millimeter." He says disapproving.  
A fucking millimeter.  
Right.  
"I'll do better." Is all I say.  
Be better.   
Always.  
Or they won't love you anymore.  
Maybe one day, they'll see me as their son. And as an asset.  
As an equal.  
Maybe one day, I can become good enough, that they'll finally see me again.  
One day, I'll earn their approval.

End


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
Josiah’s P.O.V.

-March, 2012-  
Alexa and Avery are playing with dolls in the corner. While Avery was managing to completely ignore my dad and her dad arguing, Alexa kept looking over.   
I could feel her eyes burning into me.   
I stay clinging to my father, burying my face against his neck as he yells.  
He isn’t yelling at me, though.   
For once.  
“...You can’t be going around selling my son! He isn’t yours! Use your own kids! Goddammit, Nick!” He hugs me close.  
“My kids aren’t boys!” My uncle argues.   
“I don’t give a shit! Stop, or I’ll get the police to make you stop!”   
“You call the police and let them take a look at him, you really think they won’t notice that you keep trying to kill him?!”  
“They won’t need to see him! They’ll see what you did, because you took pictures and fucking posted them online!”   
“He’s beautiful! Do you realize how much he sells for? I’ll give you half. Since you half made him.”   
By those standards, he shouldn’t get any. Because he played no part in making me. But, where would the other half go, then?  
Reasonably, to me. Since I did the work. But that isn’t going to happen.   
“Get the hell out of my house!”  
“He could make so much if you offered him up on-“  
“Fuck off!” My father snaps, grabbing his cellphone.  
“Fine! Come on, girls.” My uncle snatches both his daughters by their arms and starts dragging them out.  
Alexa pulls away, probably to grab her dolls that had dropped to the floor as soon as he grabbed them. “Stop hurting Josiah!” She yells at the adults.  
Her dad smacks her sharply on her head before picking her up and leaving with her as she kicks and screams.  
My father slams the door shut behind them and locks it.  
“How dare he hurt my son?” He asks through gritted teeth.  
I hug him tightly as he sits on the couch. He hugs back for only a moment before sitting me down beside him.  
He grabs my blanket off of the floor. “I leave you with him for two goddamn days and he tries to kill you with my fucking whiskey.” He mutters.  
“Am I-I in trouble...?” I ask cautiously.  
I don’t think I broke a rule, but... I barely ever know when I do.  
“For once, no. Your uncle isn’t supposed to do that to you. Don’t let people take pictures of you like that. They use it for bad shit, and they do that because you’re a little bitch who...” He trails off, starting to mumble.  
“Mommy took pictures.” I remind him.  
“Mommy took good pictures. She...took pictures of you that are so full of love. Not lust and greed. Your mom loved you.”   
“It’s okay with love, then?” I assume.  
“No one’s ever going to love you again.” He balls up the blanket and throws it at me before standing.   
He’s right.  
Why do I keep thinking I have the potential to be loved?   
The only reason my mother ever loved me is because she had to. Because she was my mother.   
I hear him get a glass and pour some sort of alcoholic drink in.  
Probably the yucky whiskey.   
“Never say no to someone older than you. But, don’t give people digital evidence that you’re a whore like your cousins. No pictures. Okay?”   
“How can I s-stop if they want t-to?” If I can’t say no...  
“I don’t know. You’re smart. Maybe one of your books will tell you.”  
“My books are about languages and animals...?” I point out.  
He sits by me again. “I was wrong. You’re a dipshit,” He holds his drink in front of my face, “You can say no on one occasion. If it’s something someone else wants you to do that daddy told you not to. Right now, I’m telling you not to be a whore. New rule.”  
I blink a few times before nodding.  
That sounds reasonable.  
...  
-Tuesday, August 31st, 2021-   
Ever since I got home, I’ve been curled up in the corner with my blanket, reading from my book about snakes.  
If my aunt didn’t threaten to kill anything I brought home, I would already have a snake. I think I would name him Chip. Like a chocolate chip. Either than or Berry, or Pancake, or… Noon.  
I think Noon is cute. Probably better for a plant, though. Like spring flowers.  
I go to get a pen to record this information, about the flowers, but I immediately find that my backpack isn’t set by my chest of clothes anymore.  
I glare at Avery, who is laying on the couch, with her phone. Probably texting every boy at school.   
“Whore.”   
Shit.  
“What did you say?!” She questions sharply.  
I shouldn’t have said that. I’m in trouble now.   
“I called you a whore. Where’s my bag?”   
“Josiah! Shut the fuck up!” My aunt snaps at me.  
“Why would you call her that?!” Alexa asks.  
She is sitting with my aunt, drinking wine and smoking, as usual.  
I don’t know what whore means anyway. It’s bad and it’s associated with wanting sex. I know that much, but not the definition.  
“Because she hid my bag again.” I say.  
“I wouldn’t do that if you weren’t a blind fag who’s so fun to mess with!” Avery argues.  
I cannot be insulted, because I don’t know what that means, either.  
Fag, faggot… I hear it at school, but all I know is that it’s a really bad word. To the point where I don’t want to say it.   
“Avery Nicole Walker,” Alexa takes on a serious tone, “Stop that. Give him his bag back.”   
Oh. She pulled out the middle name.   
Nicole.   
The feminine form of their father’s name. I’m sure it’s Alexa’s middle name, too. Because it’s how this generation in my family works, for some reason.   
If I was a girl, I would be Adriana Tomi Walker. Fun fact.  
“I’m not going to now! He called me a whore!”   
“He’s not wrong. Give it back.”   
I stare over in Alexa’s direction for a moment, confused. I don’t know why she would defend me like that.   
Next thing I know, my backpack is chucked at me. I barely catch it once it hits me.   
“Apologize to me.” Avery commands.  
“No.”   
“I’m the boss of you. Go sit outside until I let you back in.”   
“You’re not. You’re younger than me.”   
“Hey! You listen to her. Get the fuck out.” Aunt Dahlia orders.   
“...May I bring my stuff with me?” I ask softly.  
“No. When Avery lets you back in, you can’t have anything, either.”  
“What about my blanket?”  
It’s starting to get cold out. I wouldn’t doubt that it’s around 60°F right now.  
Just low enough to be uncomfortable during an extended amount of time.   
“No. Get out.”   
I get up and go to the door immediately.  
I just hope Avery lets me back in sometime tonight…  
I don’t like being locked outside overnight.

End


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
Damien's P.O.V.

-Wednesday, September 1st-  
I wait for Josiah at my motorcycle. I’ve given him a ride home every night this week. It’s out of my way and doesn’t make sense for me to do...but half the shit I do anymore doesn’t make sense, especially to me.  
And especially involving Josiah.  
I pull the gift out of my bag, and as soon as he approaches, I hold it out to him.  
Then I remember he can’t see shit. And I say, “Take this.”  
“What is it?”  
“A phone. So I can text you instead of having to risk tracking you down during the school day.” I continue to hold it out to him.  
“You got me a phone? Doesn’t that cost, like, a lot of money?”  
I laugh. “You saw my house...well, you didn’t SEE my house, but you get the point. Either way, my parents are loaded and attempt to buy my love with a credit card that has no limit. So take the fucking phone. My arm is getting tired.”  
“It’s funnier to make you hold it out like that.”  
“I can throw it at your face, if that’s funnier.”  
“Please don’t do that. It hurts.”  
“No fucking way?! Why didn’t anyone tell me?! Gimme your bag then and I’ll put it in there. We don’t have all night.”  
“Why don’t we have all night?”  
“I’m assuming you have a curfew.”  
“Not really. It doesn’t matter when or if I come home.”  
“Well, I'm not studying until four a.m. Take the phone and let’s get on with it, then.”  
I hold it out and he takes it from me hesitantly, stuffing it in his bag.  
I like the idea that the only number in his contacts is mine...  
I get on the motorcycle and he follows in suit, wrapping his arms around me.  
I tense up every time. I wonder if he notices.  
When he rests his head against my back…  
It makes me feel something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely not okay.  
I need to get myself back under control. I need to focus.  
I have this mantra playing in the back of my mind when when it comes to anything dealing with Josiah Walker...  
He isn’t my friend, he’s means to an end.  
It rhymes, so I don’t forget it.  
And it seems like everytime I see him, I have to remind myself more and more.  
I ignore how he’s pressed against me and I speed home, I’m sure going faster then he likes.  
But I really can’t find it in myself to care.  
Or at least, I tell myself that.  
When we get back to my place, I turn and ask “Would you feel more comfortable if I got you a helmet? I think I have one somewhere in here…” I say looking around the garage.  
“Yeah, I-I would… But I also think you should have one.”  
“Nah. Pass.” I say, getting off and hold out my hand to help him. He glances at it then looks away, getting off without my help…  
whatever. He’s said time and time again that he doesn’t like touching/being touched, but for some reason I still offer like everytime.  
“Are we studying in my room, or like in the living room...or what? How does this work?”  
“Doesn’t matter. Wherever you want.”  
“Okay, my room, I guess…”  
Is that weird? I feels like it is. More likely it’s only weird if i think it is…  
I start up the stairs and stop on the second one. “Wait. I don’t like you going up these… Let’s study in the dining room.”  
It's actually terrifying, the idea of him fucking falling down the stairs. Horrifying.  
“Why? I go up stairs at school all the time.”  
“I don’t like that either.”  
“Seems like you care, or something.”  
“Bullshit. I don’t give a flying fuck about you. I don’t want to have to explain to my parents why there's a dead body staining their nice white rug.“ I turn around and he follows me into the dining room. I sit my backpack on the table and pull a chair out for him. He sits down, and turns to me.  
“...What the hell, by the way? What’s actually wrong with you?”  
I laugh “What isn’t wrong with me. How does this, tutoring thing work.”  
“I don’t know. Why are you making me do this?”  
“Cause.”  
He doesn't like short answers  
“Is it because you’re a dumbass who is going to fail otherwise? Then you won’t get a highschool degree and you’ll work fast food or something for the rest of your life?”  
“Yep. Exactly that. I wanna go to college and get the fuck out of this city.”  
“Me, too. But I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know if you just don’t understand things, or if you’re not motivated to do anything… I don’t really know you.”  
“Probably both.” I admit, getting my textbooks out. “What class do you want to start with?”  
“...Chemistry?”  
“Sure. what the actual fuck is even going on? Let’s start there.” i flip open the book, but relisei don’t even know where we are. I gave up one week in. I hate science.  
“What’s going on? You mean, like… In the class? Or in chemistry itself? Because there’s a lot going on in both.”  
“Both.” I say, hopelessly laying my head on the book in front of me, “Maybe I can sleep on my textbook and then just absorb information like a sponge…”  
“I don’t think so. That’s not how it works. And if you fall asleep, I’ll raid your fridge.”  
“Are you hungry?” He didn’t eat lunch today. I sit up, “I can get you something.”  
Anything to get out of this. I already hate it .  
“Yeah, I… You don’t have to…”  
“You figure out where to start, I’ll find you food. What do you like?” I stand, pushing my chair in.  
“I don’t know. Are you doing this to get out of chemistry? I’m not working with you on this if you won’t do it. Don’t waste my time.”  
Shit. I’ve been caught. “No. I’ll work on it. Do you want real food, or like...cereal? I think Pierre eats Captain Crunch. I know we have that.”  
“Captain Crunch? What’s in it?”  
“Sugar. It’s cereal...you’ve never had Captain Crunch?” I cross my arms.  
“No. Is it...good? Is it something you like?”  
“I don’t really eat stuff like that, but yeah, it’s really good.”  
“Stuff like that?”  
“Yeah, y’know, sugary shit. But I’m sure you would like it.” Pretty much everyone likes it.  
“Okay. I guess.”  
I quickly make him a bowl of cereal, and bring it back to him.  
“Any luck? Where are we starting?”  
“I’m not sure what you do and don’t understand, so we’re just going to start at the beginning.”  
“Okay. Here’s your food. Let’s do this I guess.”  
I would rather die.  
…  
We get a lot done, and to be honest he does a really good job explaining stuff to me. He’s really good at it.  
“Bro, you should be a teacher or some shit.”  
“Did I help?”  
“Fuck yeah. I mean, I’m sure I’ll need more help, but you cleared up a lot. Especially in math… Do you want to help me make spanish flashcards? I mean, you don’t have to, and it’s not in your job description, but… I think you’d be helpful. At least with keeping me focused.” I look at him expectantly.  
I hope he says yes. To be honest even though we were studying, it was...fun.  
Somehow.  
He blushes and looks down at the table. “Y-Yeah, of course.”  
“Awesome!” I say a little too excitedly. I dial it back a bit. “Yeah, I mean, thanks.”  
He looks up at me and I look into his big blue eyes…  
God. Too bad they can’t see, because they're so pretty…  
“Hey, why are your glasses still fucked up? Isn’t it hard to see?”  
“Not much harder than it is usually… Why?”  
“I don’t know. It bothers me…. you said you live with your aunt...right? Why hasn’t she fixed them?”  
“She hasn’t had time. My cousins are staying over right now and she’s always either at work or handling them.”  
“Handling them? Are they little?”  
“No. They’re about my age. They’ll be starting going to our highschool on Monday. Temporarily.”  
…Oh. That sucks. I hope we don’t have to mess with them. I don’t want Josiah mad at me…  
No. I don’t care. I don't owe him anything…  
“Well, I guess I have to take you.” I say, standing. “Let’s go. Get your stuff.”  
It will drive me nuts if I have to ignore the giant crack in front of his eyes.  
“Take me where?”  
“To get your glasses fixed, or get new ones, whatever. I’m sure they can have them done by Friday.”  
“I don’t need you to do that. It’s not a problem.”  
“It bothers me. I won’t quit thinking about it if I don't. Just let me take care of it.”  
I like doing things for people. It’s a nice change.  
“Oh. Okay.”  
He stands and I contemplate getting the car out, but if I do, I know he’ll expect rides in the car instead of the motorcycle.  
I get on the bike and he does, too...anything to get him to ride with me…  
No.  
He isn’t my friend, he’s means to an end…  
I repeat it over and over as his arms slip around me and he rests his head against my back…  
He’s not…  
He’s…  
Oh god.  
I glare at the ground.  
“Damien. You’re doing that thing again.” He says.  
“What thing? I’m not doing anything!” I snap, a little harsher than I intended.  
I feel him flinch against me and I instantly regret everything…  
No I don't.  
Fuck this.  
Fuck him and his broken glasses and crooked smile...  
“I don’t know where to go. Where did you get your glasses?” I say a little nicer.  
Like Pierre said, I don’t have to be an ass…  
I don’t have to be his friend, but I don’t have to be an ass.  
“It was like six years ago. Hell if I know.”  
“Right. Sorry...” I look it up on my phone, and it says you can do it at Wal-Mart. “Okay, I guess we can go to Wal-Mart. That’s the first thing that came up. Okay?”  
“Alright. Go. Stop stalling.”  
“Whatever.”  
…  
It’s not very far from here, and as soon as we park, he lets go immediately and puts space between us.  
I shouldn't have snapped at him, he seems to react to yelling worse than anyone I've ever met…  
I need to watch for that…  
No. He’s just being a pussy.  
I walk in front of him into the store, and orient myself, until I find the pharmacy section. He stays right behind me, looking at the floor.  
“You okay?” I ask him as we get in line at the pharmacy. It’s like 6 and there’s still a few people in line. He stands glued directly behind me. He’s not touching me, but he’s definitely hiding behind me.  
“Yeah. Why? Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”  
“No, You’re just...being weird. I mean you are always weird, but like, weirder.”  
“You’re very articulate.”  
“Tough words coming from someone hiding behind me.”  
“I’m not hiding.”  
He steps out from behind me a little.  
“Mhhm. Sure you weren’t.”  
“I have to keep track of you somehow, dumb-ass.”  
“Right. The blind thing. Don’t call me that.”  
“Call you what? A dumb-ass?”  
“Yeah. It’s rude.” I laugh “You don’t want to be mean to me do you? I will cry right now.”  
“I don’t care.”  
The lady in front of us in line leaves before I can retort, and the lady behind the counter asks, “How can I help you two?”  
I gesture to his face, “He messed up his glasses, can you fix them? Or like...replace them? I don’t know how all this works.” I admit, shooting her a smile and amping up the charm.  
She smiles back, “Of course, sweetheart! Can I have them? What’s the prescription? do you know?”  
I smile apologetically, taking his glasses off his face and handing them to her. “I have no idea, I’m sorry.”  
She smiles back. “No problem. I’ll take a look at them, and I’ll see if we can just fix them, or if he needs new frames. It shouldn’t be any more then a half hour. Feel free to wander around a bit.” She dismisses us and I turn to Josiah. “Don’t die without those.”  
“It really doesn’t change very much.”  
“Maybe you should get a higher prescription then?”  
I could make him read the letters on the wall, but I doubt he could.  
“I don’t think so. It really hasn’t ever changed much.”  
“They suck that bad, huh? Well, I guess we can look around? Do you need anything while you’re here? I was going to pay you for helping me out anyway, so if you want stuff…”  
“No. I don’t need anything. And you don’t have to pay me. I don’t know what I would spend money on.”  
“You don’t want like...food for lunch or something? Or we could get something for dinner tonight, if you wanted to come and still help with Spanish that is…”  
As much of a pain in the ass as he is, I like having someone around. I didn’t realize how lonely I get when I'm not with people.  
”You want me to go home with you again after this…?”  
I shrug. “Whatever. It’s up to you.”  
...say yes. I wonder how much he eats at home.  
“I can’t stay for too long. I need to eventually go home. I know I said I didn’t have a curfew, but I don’t want to risk getting in trouble for coming home too late.”  
“Right… Well, it’s 6:30, so I think you’ll be okay.”  
“Alright. But keep an eye on the time.”  
“Okay, let’s go pick some food out, then.”  
We start walking, and I don’t comment on how close he is this time.  
As we pass a colorful display, he stops and stares at it.  
“What’s that? It’s so bright and colorful.”  
“It’s just nail polish.”  
“...What? What is that?”  
“It’s for girls. They put it on their nails and it’s brightly colored...how the fuck do you not know some of this shit?”  
“On fingernails? I’ve seen that. That’s what it’s called? Oh. Cool.”  
“Yep. Nail polish. Toenails, too.” I cross my arms and watch his face light up.  
“Let’s get some!”  
“For who?”  
“What do you mean for who? For me.”  
“It’s for girls. are you blind and deaf?”  
“I don’t care if it’s for girls.”  
“If you wear it, people will think you’re gay.” I state.  
He gets bullied enough as it is.  
I look over at him. Without those dumb-ass nerd glasses, he looks a lot better.  
“What does that mean? Is it bad?”  
“What? Yeah. It means you like guys. People hurt people over that shit.” How the hell doesn’t he know what being gay is..or what cereal is? He must have had a weird childhood.  
“Oh… So if I do, then you think that’s bad…?”  
My heart stops for a second.  
“It’s not just me that thinks it’s bad. Do you know that one kid? That transferred last year? He did because people tormented him so much that he had to go to fucking group therapy like every night. I heard he tried to...off himself.”  
That was really fucked up, what we did to that kid…  
Ethan has it out for anyone who’s different or weak. And being openly gay isn’t something you do in our school.  
“I know everyone at the school. If anyone is tormenting someone like that, it was probably your friend Ethan Lewis. So I guess you just have to promise me not to tell him.”  
Shit.  
Why the fuck would he admit that to me?  
“How can you trust me not to tell him?”  
“I can’t. You realize that if everyone knew, it wouldn’t change anything. I don’t care,” He takes a yellow one off the display and holds it out to me, “Please.”  
He doesn't realize that he would be on Ethan and Hunter’s radar if they found out…  
If I told them…  
It doesn't matter because I don't think I will.  
It doesn't benefit me.  
And for some reason I don't like hurting him. I get no pleasure out of it.  
With other kids, it’s like an adrenaline rush. Like I get when I work out.  
Same difference. Gets the stress and worry out either way.  
I look at him for a long moment, the decide. "Whatever. But don't come crying to me if you get your ass beat because of it. You shouldn't wear it to school."  
He's…gay.  
I mean it makes sense.  
But… if my parents found out and I had him alone…?  
Lets just hope they never do.  
"Is yellow your favorite?" I ask him softly, trying to force and worry I have for him out of my head.  
I shouldn't have it anyway. I have a tendency to get attached too easily.  
“Yeah. I love it.”  
I shake my head "It's stupid, not the color yellow, but nail polish…Really? You're gay?"  
“I guess so.”  
"Are you sure?"  
“I said I guess so. I’m not sure. I’ve never dated anyone.”  
"Right. So you really wouldn't know. If you were gay. Then why would you bother saying you are? If it will just get your ass kicked, why not just be with a girl?"  
“Because I think of girls and I’m like, nah.”  
"That’s not how it works…”  
“It’s how it works now.”  
Why the hell would he choose this? To be gay. It seems a hell of a lot harder on him.  
It doesn't matter anyway. He's just means to an end.  
I need to keep reminding myself that.  
"Ugh, whatever. Let's get something for dinner then, yeah? Something you might eat."  
He nods and I lead him to the food.  
"We could get, like, steak, or something…"  
I love cooking. And grilling especially.  
Call me a dad, but I've been doing it with Pierre since I was little, I used to help him in the kitchen and with chores all the time.  
Mostly so I wasn't alone.  
“No.”  
"No?" I look down at him, "What do you want?"  
“I don’t know. I don’t eat a lot.”  
"What's something you know you like?"  
If I can figure out what he will and won't eat, maybe Pierre would make extra food for me to take him for lunch.  
I don't like that he doesn't seem to eat...like at all.  
It's not right.  
“Pop-Tarts...and chicken nuggets. And apparently Captain Crunch.”  
"Okay....anything, healthier? You can't live on those." I look at my phone when it vibrates.  
Its Hunter. He wants me to come smoke with him and Ethan.  
I tell him my parents want me home and leave it at that.  
“I can. I’ve lived off Pop-Tarts for around six years now. They have them at school vending machines and stuff. That way my aunt doesn’t know.”  
"That you're eating? Why the fuck would she not want you to eat?" I start toward the freezer section and grab him a bag of nuggets.  
They're dinosaurs, but I doubt he cares.  
I guess nuggets are fine for now.  
“‘Cause I’m not allowed.”  
"Right. Okay." I don't care.  
I don't need to know about his life. I need to quit getting invested. "You said Pop-Tarts and captain crunch?"  
“...Yeah.” He murmurs.  
I get those and say, "Hopefully enough time’s passed. Let's go see what's going on with your nerd glasses."  
“Nerd glasses? What makes them nerd glasses?”  
"The nerd wearing them."  
“So if you wore them, then what would they be? Dumb-ass glasses?”  
"They'd be hot. I would put them on to show you, but you wouldn't be able to see them anyway."  
“Yeah, and I bet you’re actually super ugly. So it doesn’t matter.”  
"I must not be. Cause I do alright if you know what I mean." I laugh at him. He must not know what the rumors say.  
“Do alright at what?”  
…Seriously?  
"Having sex...please don't tell me I have to explain that to you."  
“No. Please don’t. That’s bad. Sex is bad.”  
I don't have time to push it further, when we get to the window.  
"Hey sweetie!" The same lady say, bringing the broken glasses back up. She rattles out the prescription and I store it in the Josiah facts part of my brain, just in case we need it later.  
"So, basically, you need new glasses.”  
We? Why am I thinking in we?  
What the fuck?  
"Right. Is there anyway we can get new ones by Friday night?"  
"Not a problem. Just go pick some frames out from over there and we can get new ones made up for you."  
I smile at her, "Awesome. Thank you." She hands the fucked up glasses back and I slip them on him.  
He looks surprised, but lets me do it.  
I'm tired of just holding shit out to him.  
"C'mon. Let's go pick new frames. Maybe something less stupid."  
I don't mind the glasses that much. They're very...him.  
“No. Something exactly the same.”  
"It's your life." I shrug showing him to the glasses.  
"Want me to grab a couple similar ones? And you can pick from that?"  
I don't want to be here all night.  
“Yeah. I can’t see them.”  
"Let me look at you." I say looking at the glasses on his face carefully. His face flushes a bit, but he doesn't look away.  
I then grab three similar pairs and hand them to him.  
"The one pair that’s exactly the same is silver instead of gold. But they're the closest. The other two are gold but are a little smaller." I explain.  
He brings them up close to his face. “The silver is cool.” He shrugs.  
"Right...cool."  
“Try them on. So we can see if you’re hot or ugly.”  
"No way. I'm not wearing those."  
“Yes way. If I try to put them on you, I’ll accidentally poke your eye out. So do it or let me try.”  
"Okay, fine." I say, taking them from him and slipping them on. "There. I'm hot."  
He takes a step closer toward me, getting up on his tiptoes and staring so intently at my face.  
“...” He just stares for a minute, eyes tracing over my face repeatedly.  
He's so close…..  
I could…  
I resist the urge to run. Or back off. Or hit him.  
I don’t move.  
Hes fucking blind its the least I can do.  
As long as he doesn't touch me.  
I stay unmoving. Hoping I don't look as uncomfortable as I feel.  
“Nope. Ugly.” He says finally, but he doesn’t move.  
I pause, staring at his eyes...then his lips…  
"Right. Y-you too." I manage.  
“Are you okay? I was kidding. I think you look okay. You’re not mad, are you?”  
"No." I back up quickly. "Let's pick something and get out of here."  
I say, taking the glasses off and holding them out to him.  
“Okay. I like those ones.”  
I take them up to the lady and pay her. She assures us they can be done by Friday night.  
Good.  
…  
As soon as we get back, he gets all excited about the nuggets and nail polish.  
“Alright, so we can start making nuggets, and-and… Can you do my nails for me? I know you don’t like it, but I can’t do them on my own. And then Spanish flashcards while we eat. So you can study. Good plan? Yeah?”  
Should I really encourage him?  
I look at his face, like a kid on Christmas and I sigh wearily. "Sure. Sounds good."  
After him being that close at the store… It’s messed me up. I need a drink.  
We need a five foot barrier always. I don't like people that close.  
Well that's not it actually,  
I guess, I just don't like him that close.  
“Cool! Thanks.”  
We head inside and I make sure no one’s home.  
We're all empty. Pierre left for the afternoon since mom and dad are out of town will next Monday. I'm glad they have enough sense not to pull me out of school just to go with them. Over the summers, I had to go to every fucking one.  
I carry the bags in behind him and take the lead, taking him to the kitchen.  
He follows closely behind me and I'm very aware of where is is and how close he is to me.  
Too close…  
"Can you back up a little? You're not going to get lost in my fucking house." I snap at him.  
“Sorry. I can’t tell how close I am, either.”  
"Right...just back up." I take him into the kitchen and sit the bags on the kitchen island.  
“Okay. You can tell me whenever. Just please don’t yell again.”  
"I didn't yell." Is all I say, starting the oven for his nuggets.  
I open the fridge and see that Pierre made me dinner. I heat those up for me instead.  
“Yeah, you did. Are you making nuggets?”  
"I'm making you nuggets. But those go in the oven." I get a pan out and ask, "How many do you want?"  
“How many am I allowed to have?”  
"Whatever. Like 10."  
“Ten?! Awesome.”  
I put ten of the dinosaurs on the pan and inform him, "I got the dinosaur ones."  
I slip them in the oven and set the timer.  
“...Dinosaurs?”  
"Yep. Like T-Rex and shit. Dinosaurs, you know... Rawr."  
If he doesn't know what dinosaurs are…  
“I love dinosaurs! I used to have this book that had all the dinosaurs in it. All of them. It was amazing.”  
"It sounds like it. When I was a kid I had like 100 Power Rangers books."  
I was obsessed.  
“That’s a lot of books…” He says softly, “I wish I had 100 books.”  
"I didn't actually have 100 of them, it was an exaggeration. I don't read so it wouldn't be that useful."  
“Yeah, I assumed you weren’t big on reading.”  
"What's that supposed to mean?" I cross my arms.  
“Because you’re stupid. Do my nails? Please?”  
"Not if you call me stupid."  
“Does it make you mad?”  
"I don't like it, but whatever. Do what you want." I say grabbing the polish.  
I pull the stools up to the island and say, "Sit. I'll do them."  
“Okay. Thank you.” He sits down.  
I hold out my hand to him, like I have a million times.  
And this time he hesitantly gives it to me.  
He's so warm…  
What’s wrong with me today? Holy shit.  
I need to stop. This is getting out of hand.  
Get it… hand.  
‘Cause…ha.  
“Are you going to do it? You’re acting weird today, y’know.” He tells me.  
"No I’m not." I say sitting his hand on the counter, opening the polish.  
"It smells nasty." I complain beginning slowly on his pinky nail.  
“Yeah. Why does it smell like that?”  
"I mean, it's paint." I say, trying so hard to keep it in the lines.  
“Can you paint the walls with it?”  
"Probably," I say, focusing my hardest. It's harder than I thought, "Your stupid nails are too small for the fucking brush. You don't have girl hands, you have baby hands." I glare at his hands.  
“That’s a compliment. Thanks.” He says.  
"Nope. Babies can't do shit."  
“Babies are cute, though. You just called me cute. I can’t wait to have kids.”  
"...Have fun with that."  
“I will.”  
Whatever. I just need his help studying. This doesn't mean shit.

End


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Friday September 3rd-  
“I’ll walk.” I say instantly when Damien leads me to his motorcycle.  
I stare blankly at him as he gets onto it.  
“You’re going to walk all the way to Wal-Mart? Then back to my house? That’s stupid.”  
“I’ve been walking to and from school for like, eight years. You’re stupid.”  
“I’m not stupid, just get on.”   
I don’t want to. I know what will happen when I get on.  
I’ll wrap my arms around him and he will freeze up and do nothing until I yell at him.  
“Don’t you have a car or anything?”  
“Nope. Just this. Let’s go, you always take forever on everything.”  
“You’re the one who takes ten minutes to go after I get on.”  
“Bullshit.”  
We’ll see.  
I pull myself up onto the bike behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face against his back for emphasis.  
As expected, he tenses and freezes.  
“Bullshit.” I mock his tone.  
“I don’t like being touched.” He mutters unconvincingly.  
“Seems more like you like it too much.” I tease.  
I take my head off of him and just stare at his jacket in front of me. Leather is an awful material.  
“Don’t say that.” He warns seriously.  
It’s very funny how he says things. Then he doesn’t do anything.  
It’s so stupid. There’s something wrong with him.  
“Are you going to go?” I go on.  
He says nothing. He just starts the motorcycle.   
I genuinely don’t like this. I think he thinks I’m joking.  
Maybe just keep bugging him about it and he’ll buy a car with his parents’ money.  
…  
He drives to Wal-Mart.   
I wonder if he’s going to buy more chicken nuggets. That would be cool.  
I wish I could just take them home with me. I’m sure Damien would let me, but I’m also pretty sure that my aunt would be pissed.  
...Maybe I should try anyway. She’s always mad. It doesn’t matter.  
I follow behind him as we go into the store. I try to keep more of a distance between us, but it’s not easy.   
There’s no reason to make him upset again. Especially not about that.  
“Damien,” I begin, unsure if I have his attention or not, “Do you think we could buy a bit of food and stuff for me to take home today? If not, then it’s okay. It’s really not a problem.”  
“Of course. I really should be paying you for tutoring anyway, but you won’t let me.”  
“I don’t let you do half the shit you do, but okay. Thanks.”   
I run a hand through my hair and pull just a bit. I can’t do nuggets because those would be kept in the fridge. It would be hard to get them there and access them once they’re there. And my aunt isn’t blind like I am. She would notice.  
I wonder if there’s something easy to make that doesn’t need microwaved or refrigerated.   
Something I could hide.  
“What’s something that, like, doesn’t need to be cooked or put in the fridge or anything? Something easy…?”   
“You said you like Pop-Tarts?”  
I guess those are pretty easy. I could just keep them in my backpack.  
“Yeah. If we could get some of those.”  
I assume he nods or something, because he doesn’t respond verbally.  
He starts talking to the glasses person. He’s awfully nice.   
Considering he is definitely in the top three most threatening people at school, that is still strange to me.   
I guess he knows how to pretend to get what he wants.  
My dad was the same way.  
After a minute of talking to that lady, Damien turns to me and takes the glasses off of my face, putting the new ones on instead.  
I guess he got sick of holding things out to me.  
...It’s very funny.  
“Wow. It’s a miracle. I can see.” I say.  
The glasses barely changed anything. I wonder if they work for other people, or if this is the situation everyone is in.   
“Oh my god! That lady must be Jesus!”  
“She’s a girl. Jesus is a boy.” I point out.  
“Okay. She’s God, and if Ariana Grande has a say in anything, which she does, God’s a woman, so…”  
“I don’t think so. Since God was made up, you can view it however you want to.” Since it doesn’t matter.  
“You think God’s made up?” He questions.  
Oh.  
“Yes. Just like all the thousands of other ones. Zeus, Allah, Odin… There’s a bunch of other mythology and religion. Not all of them can be real. Probably none of them are.”  
“So you don’t believe in like...anything? Must be nice.”  
“I could just as easily make up my own religion. With gods of chicken nuggets, and Pop-Tarts. Then I can believe in something.” I suggest.  
“I’d join that religion.”  
“Thanks. It’s actually a cult. But aren’t they all?”   
“As far as I can tell, essentially, yeah.”  
“I figured. I did a little religion class that the school offered last year. It was weird. People fall for a lot of shit.”  
“People like to believe they’re going to get rewarded if they’re good, and go somewhere happy. People will do anything to keep other people in line. Religion is just more rules.”  
“Rewarded if they’re good. I thought that’s what Santa Claus was for.”  
“Santa is MY religion.”  
“It can’t be, if you’re in the cult. And you’re a bad boy. Does Santa even bring you stuff?”   
“Every year. I’m sleeping with Mrs. Claus, I have an in.”  
“You’re an awful human being.” I inform him.  
“I know.” He laughs.  
“Then change it.”   
“Why?”  
“Because you’ll be punished one day. If you stop breaking the rules, then you’ll be okay.”  
“I thought you didn’t believe in anything.” He says, stopping. “What kind of Pop-Tarts do you want?”  
“I don’t. Why would you think I do? And get strawberry...please.”  
He reaches out and gets a box. “Because, you said I’d be punished ...Like hell, right?”  
“Maybe. There’s no way to know for sure. But I meant, like, your parents. Or the police, or the school, or...just someone who’s pissed because you’re an asshole.”  
“Good.”  
“Good? Why?”  
“I don’t care. Whatever happens, happens at this point.”  
“That’s...stupid. Aren’t you afraid of anything?”  
“Snakes.”  
“Well, you’re an idiot. Snakes are awesome. I want one.”  
“Have fun dying, then.”  
“Snakes don’t usually eat or kill people. Just rodents and stuff.”  
“That’s why you’re not safe! Cause you’re a rodent.” He laughs.  
“Thanks.” I reply.  
“No problem. Wanna go study? Or do you need more food?”  
“Can we get something to drink…? Water?”  
“We have water at my house, unless you wanted some for yours?”  
“Yeah. Or, juice. Juice would be cool.”  
“Juice it is then.”  
“Thank you. Really.” I tell him softly.  
“It makes me feel less like I’m forcing you. So I really don’t care...But you’re welcome.”  
“You’re not forcing me to do anything. I like hanging out with you… And the studying is nice. It’s all just really nice…” I murmur, “Except, the motorcycle, of course. That’s the only thing I would change.”  
“Right. Well, I don’t exist to make you happy, so you’re going to have to get used to it, because I'm not waiting on you to walk everywhere.”  
“No one said you had to wait for me. Again, I’m not the only smart kid in school. In fact, I’m pretty sure there’s actual tutors.” I say.  
I don’t know why, but he gets upset when I bring this up. Just slightly upset.  
Then he makes up some lame excuse.  
“I had to pick someone. You seemed as good as anyone else.”  
Bullshit.  
He’s really persistent about it being me. Even when I make him mad.  
This is just weird. I don’t know what he is doing this for, but it isn’t just to piss off Logan or to study.  
I wonder if he is tricking me into something. I’m just waiting for him to bring me to his buddies Ethan and Hunter Lewis. So he can be like surprise, I was being nice to you so you would trust me.  
I don’t know if I would say I’m particularly afraid of it. But it’s on my mind more and more lately.  
“No. You’re probably plotting something. You realize you don’t have to trick me or anything, right? I don’t need to be manipulated into going along with things like you do.” I tell him.  
If he’s planning anything, he can just do it. Get it over with. Stop pretending.  
“I’m not being manipulated by anything. And if I was planning something, I would have done it already. I’m not into plans. They’re too hard. I’d rather just hit people.”  
“Sure you do. Considering that you haven’t.”  
He pauses a moment. “I’m not going to hit you. I need you.” He says, quickly going to explain himself afterwards, “I mean, I need you to study with...I don't need you.”  
“You’re surprisingly bad at lying.”   
“Maybe you’re just bad at knowing what lying is and what telling the truth is because I'm telling the truth.”  
“What if I told you that I can read minds?”  
“I’d be fucked.” He mummers. “You can’t read minds.”  
“Really? You think so? What if I told you...I know exactly why you’re doing this?”  
“Good luck, ‘cause most of the time, I don’t know why I’m doing this.”  
Now he’s playing dumb. Okay. I can work with that.  
“Don’t act stupid.”  
“Don’t act like you can read minds, then. That’s acting stupid.”  
“You’re doing this because you need a friend. Yeah.” I claim.  
“I have friends. I sure as hell don’t need any more. And I don’t need you, either.”  
“You don’t have friends. We’ve been over this. You have Ethan and Hunter Lewis.”   
“Yeah. They're my friends. Why the fuck would I need you as a friend?”  
“We’ve been over this, too. It’s because they’re not real friends.” I remind him.  
I guess he still believes that they’re right for him, or whatever. That’s fine. He can think that if he wants.   
I’m still going to keep telling him otherwise. But, that doesn’t mean that I care.  
“How would you know? You don’t have friends. You eat lunch alone and I’ve never even seen you talk to anyone but Logan, and that’s when he was beating the shit out of you!”  
“That’s because I’m a very quiet person. I don’t talk a lot, y’know.”  
I call bullshit. On myself.   
I don’t talk a lot because it’s a rule at home. Anywhere else, and I’m mostly free to say whatever I want, whenever I want. As long as my aunt doesn’t find out.  
“You talk more than I do! And that’s not true. No one wants to be friends with you!”   
“Yeah, you’re right. People don’t like me because I test their limits a lot, and most people aren’t okay with that.” I confirm.  
“Like right now.” He realizes.  
“Pretty much. But you don’t seem to care like other people do.”   
“I don’t care. You’re right. Because I’m not your friend. We won’t ever be friends. This is strictly a business relationship. You help me get good grades, and I’ll buy you shit. That’s it.”   
I never said otherwise. I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with the idea of us being friends.   
“It’s okay. I don’t need friends. I don’t crave validation from peers.”   
Also bullshit. I’m on a roll today.   
I guess I don’t particularly need validation from peers, but I still need validation. From him. For some reason.  
“I don’t think that’s true. Everyone needs friends.”  
“Why would you think that? Just because you need friends, you assume everyone does?”   
“It’s human nature.”   
“No. I don’t like people. I would rather live in a world where no one else exists, in fact.”   
“I get lonely with people around. I can’t imagine a world with no one else.”   
“I like imagining it. There would be no rules. No one would be around to do anything to me. I could just turn on a TV as loud as I want, and eat, and be left alone…”  
It all sounds so perfect.  
Why have people around when they’re all going to hurt you anyway?  
“Until you ran out of food. And the TV wouldn’t work, because no one would make shows, or movies. And the electricity would go out after a while.” He points out.  
I guess he’s right. I knew it was too good to ever work out in real life.   
“There goes my plans to kill everyone else. You know, I think what I really want is to be a dictator.”   
“Smart. Then you could just force everyone to do what you want.”   
“I would make you cook chicken nuggets for me.” I say.  
That’s pretty much it. I just don’t want rules and punishments.  
“That’s it? You literally could do anything to anyone and you would make me do something I’m already going to do when we get back?”   
“No, not just like...in a normal way. Nonstop. 24-7. You would just constantly be cooking chicken nuggets. Besides, what else would I want?"   
"You could do ANYTHING.”   
“I don’t need anything else.” I shrug.  
He grabs some stuff off the shelves. Why is he carrying everything? Why didn’t he get a shopping cart or something?  
“Impressed. I would do all sorts of illegal shit.” He says.  
“I’m sure you already do,” I mutter, “But what would you do if no one existed? You said you would be lonely. Like, if everyone just dropped dead right now, aside from you… What would be the first thing you would do?”   
“Kill myself.” He says without missing a beat.  
“What? Why?!” I stop walking and stare at him.   
He turns to face me, probably confused about why I stopped.   
“‘Cause. I told you. I wouldn’t want to be alone.”   
“I don’t-... You really wouldn’t be able to handle being alone like that? It would be enough to push you to...do...that?”   
“It wouldn’t take that much pushing…” He mumbles, then laughs in an attempt to lighten the situation a bit, “Why not? If I’m the only person, then I would end up dying and ending the human race anyway. It wouldn’t matter if I killed myself, because everyone else would be dead anyway.”   
He lives without rules anyway. It makes sense.  
“Okay. What if… It was just you and me? And, like, a farmer. So we could have food. And a female so you can continue the human race. What then?” I make up a different scenario.  
Hell, maybe the farmer is a female. Then there’s just three people on the planet.   
“Is she hot?” He asks.  
What the hell?  
“No. She resembles a chicken.”  
“Oh. Then I guess I would kill myself.”   
“Fine!” I give in, “She’s really hot. Like...um…a really attractive girl. Like Taylor Swift. She’s hot like Taylor Swift, and the farmer resembles a chicken.” I change it up again.  
“...Is it Taylor Swift?”  
It wasn’t going to be. But it makes things better for me and for him, so…  
“Yeah. Who needs girls who aren’t Taylor Swift?”   
“Well, in that case, I would fuck her, then kill myself.”  
I hate him. A lot.  
“That would end the human race! That’s why she’s there; So that doesn’t happen!” I point out.  
“You could do it.”  
Hell no.  
“I can’t. You forgot about the not into girls thing.”   
And the fact that I would rather die than ever have sex again.  
“Well. You would have to. ‘Cause I would be dead. It would just be you, Taylor Swift, and a farmer that looks like a chicken. You would just have to have sex with them, to repopulate.”   
“I...can’t.”  
That’s one thing we can’t get into. Ever.  
“Okay. New plan. I have sex with Taylor Swift and the chicken lady until one of them has a boy. Then they can handle it from there, and I kill myself. And you can just eat nuggets. I’m sure Taylor Swift would make you nuggets.”   
“...Sure. You think she would do that? I don’t know… I feel like you’re better at making nuggets.”   
I don’t want him to die.  
“She would handle it, I’m sure.”  
“I think Taylor Swift should stick to singing. And the farmer could handle the animals and stuff. But you still have to make nuggets.” I say.  
I start walking again, being sure to keep what I believe is a fair distance away from him.  
“You have to live...to make me nuggets.” I add.  
“No can do, Walker.”  
“Please? No one else will.”  
I think I forgot for a second that we aren’t talking about this world. We’re talking about a world where it’s just us, Taylor Swift, and a farmer.  
I just...don’t expect either of those two to do anything. Not for me, at least.  
“Whatever, dude. Let’s get out of here.”   
I shut myself up and just follow after him.   
When we get back to his motorcycle, I force myself to speak again.  
“...Thanks for the food...and all the rides home from school. I’m glad you don’t just give me money.”  
“Giving you money would be easier.” He says.  
“I know. But then we would have to determine a price, and stuff… I like this a lot more.” I tell him, watching him get on.  
I do the same, without making him have to repeatedly tell me to.  
“Right. It’s...something.”  
“It’s really cool.” I say.  
I wrap my arms around him, very loosely. Without the intention to bother him with it this time.  
“You’re going to fall off if you don’t hold on tight enough.”   
I tighten my grip just a bit. “I’m trying to not make you upset.”  
“I would be more upset if I had to clean your brain off the road.”  
“Yeah, thanks for that image…” I mutter.  
Now I get to think about that again. About getting smashed and ripped apart…  
Fun.  
I wince. I wish he wouldn’t say things like that. The stuff I don’t want him to say… That would be nice.”   
“Are you okay?” He asks.  
“...What? That’s my line. I’m supposed to say that when we get on the motorcycle.”   
I have to say that every damn time we get on this fucking bike…  
“You just seemed weird. Whatever.”  
“I’m okay,” I sigh, “Let’s go home.”  
For nuggets, and for studying… Two amazing things.  
“Home?” He repeats, sounding disturbed.  
“H-Home… Yeah. Let me pretend.”   
Living there would be…  
Ah.  
“Okay. Home.” He shrugs.  
Home.   
His house is like mine, but with wide open areas, and food, and...being able to talk… Specifically, being able to talk to someone who doesn’t attack.  
He starts up the motorcycle without another word and we start heading back to his house.  
…  
I eat a chicken nugget as I watch Damien try to work out a math problem.  
“...Did you get it?” I ask, since it’s been a couple minutes.  
“Not yet. Gimme another minute!” He sounds frustrated as hell.  
“I can tell you the answer, if you tell me what the problem is.” I suggest.  
Maybe if he works through it backwards… If he knows the answer, then he might be able to figure out how to get to that answer.  
“You said I need to carry it over. That doesn’t make sense.”  
“Let me see it.” I say.  
He pushes the book over so it’s in front of me. I pick it up and bring it to my face so I can see what he’s done.  
“...You’re doing it right, Damien. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” I hold my hand out toward him. For the pencil, so I can write out the full formula for him, along with the answer.   
He momentarily puts his hand against mine.  
“What was that?” I question.  
“High five.”  
“I- Damien! Give me the pencil.” I feel my cheeks burn a bit.  
“Oh.” He puts the pencil in my hand.  
“You’re such a dumb-ass.” I crack a slight smile.  
It’s kinda cute…  
“Okay,” I begin writing, “I think all you need to do is be more confident in this. You’re not that bad at math. Really.”  
“I don’t believe you. I’m bad at math.”   
“No. Look. You really didn’t miss much.” I hold the book out in front of his face to show him.  
“Oh. I feel stupid now.” He says, after taking a look at it.  
“You’re not stupid.”  
“You just called me stupid, like, two seconds ago.”   
“I didn’t! I called you a dumb-ass.” I correct.   
“Same thing.” He says, taking the book back and starting on the next problem.  
“It’s not. If I thought you were stupid, I wouldn’t be here, doing this with you.” I eat another nugget.  
It’s different because that dumb-ass was said more affectionately. Because he did a stupid thing, not because he is stupid.   
“Hush. I’m doing math. I gotta focus.” He tells me.  
“I have to keep talking, or I’ll feel guilty.” I stare down at the plate in front of me.  
“About what?”  
“Because of the nuggets. My aunt would be pissed.”  
“She’s not here. You don’t eat enough.” He says.  
He isn’t really paying attention to me. He’s focusing on his schoolwork. Good. I just need to be able to keep talking.   
“If she knew… You’re influencing me too much, Damien. I’m becoming a rebel, like you.”   
He laughs, “Sure you are, Walker.”  
“I’m serious. Don’t laugh at me.”   
And I wish he would stop calling me that.  
“You’re eating dinner. You should eat breakfast, and lunch, too. Or, at least, just lunch,” He looks up at me, “She has no right to tell you that you can’t eat.”   
I blink at him a few times. Nonsense.  
“We don’t have enough. She says that we can’t afford to waste things on me. Especially not since my cousins are living with us now.”  
“Then I guess I’ll just feed you.” He decides, going back to his schoolwork.  
He helps a lot. I‘m glad he’s around. Even if he is making me bad.   
“Don’t your parents ever say that to you…?” I ask, about the food thing. Since he seems particularly disturbed by it.  
“With food? No. We have plenty. Pierre wouldn’t let it happen, anyway.”   
“Oh. I forgot you guys are rich. And Pierre seems nice.”   
Too nice. I wouldn’t know how to handle someone like him.  
“He’s really cool. He pretty much raised me.”   
“Sounds fun. Is he the reason that you’re so nice all the time? You’re really nice to the people at Wal-Mart.”   
“What? I’m not nice.”  
“Yeah, you are. You are friendly with the glasses people, and the cashier people.” I point out.  
“Yeah...I guess so. There’s no reason to be rude to strangers. Pierre taught me that. Like, those people are just trying to do their jobs.”   
“They’re getting paid for it. It doesn’t matter if you’re nice to them or not. They’re already getting their reward.”   
“No. They usually get paid minimum wage, and they deal with shitty people all day. The least I can do is not be an ass to them. And they’re much more helpful if you’re nice to them.”  
“They can’t complain. It’s money,” I shift a bit, “I’m not saying you should be mean, but there’s no reason to be so polite and gentle.”  
It’s supposed to be hard. It’s work.  
That’s why people get money for doing it.  
“Pierre would beat my ass if I did that.” He laughs.  
“He would? Why? Are you not allowed to?”   
He pauses and looks at me again. “I was joking. He would just be disappointed. He would be sad, and I hate making him sad.”  
“How come? Does he do something when he’s sad?” I go on.  
“He kinda mopes around. I don’t want him to feel bad. I care about him.”   
“He...doesn’t hit you? You were actually just joking?”   
“No. Of course he doesn’t hit me.” He says.  
Of course…?  
“Oh,” I fidget with my sleeves, “That’s nice of him.”  
“...Nice of him?” He echoes.   
“Yeah. Because when you’re bad, he doesn’t hit you… Like, y’know. With a remote, or a picture frame, or whatever. That means he’s nice.”  
“No. He doesn’t hit me.”  
“He’s too nice. Like how you are with me. For some reason, people like you and him are nice when you shouldn’t be.”   
“Pierre practically raised me. Why would he hit me? My mom’s gotten mad before, too, but she’s never thrown shit.”   
“That’s weird.” I shrug.  
I lean over a bit and look at his paper to see how far he’s gotten. He hasn’t done much.   
He covers the paper with his hands. “I’m not done!” He whines.  
“I’m sorry. You were just taking too long.”   
“Because you keep talking to me!”  
“I told you why I have to keep talking. Do you really want me to stop? I will if you do. I’m sorry for being annoying.” I say.  
“I didn’t say you were annoying,” He immediately backs out, “You don’t have to stop. Just know that’s why I’m taking longer.”  
“Okay… I just wanted to make sure you weren’t mad.” I sit back against the chair, averting my eyes to the ceiling.   
I bet there’s some sort of fancy design on their ceiling…  
“I’m not mad. Just focusing.”  
“If it helps, you don’t have to respond. I can talk to myself.”   
“Okay. It’s okay. Are you enjoying your dinosaurs?”  
“Yup,” I hold one out a bit, “This one’s name is Jerry.” I show him.  
He leans over and bites into him, making me quickly bring the nugget back. He bit off his head!  
“That was mean. At least you made it a quick death.” I remark.   
“It’s not that good.”  
“Lies. Do you want the rest of his remains?”  
“Nah. You can keep Jerry.”   
“I’m going to eat him.” I say.  
“Goodbye, Jerry.” He murmurs.  
I laugh at Damien, before popping the rest of Jerry into my mouth and eating him.  
“Damien. You’re funny.” I tell him.  
“No, I’m not. I’m scary.”  
“Yep, and you’re also funny.”  
“Thanks? I finished all the problems on this page.”  
“Lemme see.” I say.  
He pushes it over to me again and I pick it up.  
I take one look through all of it and notice a wrong answer. “You messed up. You missed a number right at the start of this one.” I inform him.  
“Bullshit! Where?”  
“You didn’t even put in the seven,” I scan over the other ones again, “But, you got everything else right.”  
I set the book down and put my hand up by him again, staring at him.  
“I blame Jerry for distracting me. Let me try again.”  
“Don’t speak ill of the deceased. Give me a high five.”  
“Why?”  
“You did a good job. I’m proud of you.” I say.  
“Really? Thanks!” He high fives me.  
I laugh at him again. “Do that more. It’s funny.”  
“Do what?”  
“High fives!”   
I keep my hand out by him, and he gently slaps it again.   
I suddenly cannot stop laughing.   
It’s so weird. Why does he do that?  
“That’s so weird! It’s how I say good job now!” I giggle.  
“High fives are normal! Why the hell are you laughing?” He smiles.  
I cover my face with my hands, trying to stifle the laughter. “It’s not normal. It’s hilarious.”   
“Okay. Whatever. I fixed the problem. Want to move on to chemistry? Once you’re done giggling?”   
I shake my head. “N-No...haha… Let’s go over your flash cards first.” I force myself to stop.   
“Do you need a second?” He grins.  
I think I’m shaking. “No! It’s just c-cute.” I mutter.  
“What’s cute?”  
“The high five thing. I love it.”   
“Okay. I’ll never do it again.” He says.  
I stop. “Oh.”  
I guess he doesn’t think it’s funny…?  
I pull my hair a bit to stop myself from laughing. “Get the flash cards out.” 

End


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
Damien's P.O.V.

-Monday, September 6th-  
At school, the first thing Ethan says is, "What the hell, Cohen? We've been trying to hang all last week? Think you're too good for us?"  
I laugh, but I can’t tell if he’s actually mad or joking. Probably a mix of both...  
"No. It’s just, starting this week, I’m busy on Wednesdays and Fridays."  
Don’t ask, please…  
"Doing what?" Hunter asks, crossing his arms. He seems upset, too.  
I play with my hoodie strings. "I had to get a tutor, so I can pass math and science. I don't want to have to repeat highschool."  
“So what? You’re just going to blow us off?” Ethan mutters.  
"No! I'm not trying to blow you off. It's just, I can’t hang out every single night. But I hear Jennifer is having a party tonight, if you guys wanted to go with me?" I look at Ethan hopefully.  
If he says yes, Hunter has to. I've never seen Hunter say no to him.  
"I don't know. You could have told us earlier. We’re your friends, dude." Hunter says.  
“Yeah. Don’t be such an ass.”  
"Okay. Sorry. But Monday nights are just for us, okay? Not studying, or any of that lame shit. We're gonna party hard tonight, okay?" I put a hand on Ethan's shoulder.  
He shrugs me off. "Fine. But don't do that again."  
He doesn't need to be such an ass about it...but he's right. I can't put Josiah in front of them.  
...  
The party is amazing. Like ten shots in, I'm fucking wasted, and then I see this girl...  
She's really hot, but the first thing that stuns me are her eyes.  
I have to talk to her. Before I can get away from whatever bitch is talking to me, she walks over and puts a hand on my arm. "What’s up? I'm Alexa, you're…Damien, right?"  
I nod and the other girl gets the hint and leaves. I don't even know who it was. But it doesn't matter.  
Her eyes are like…hypnotizingly blue.  
"I am. And you must be the new girl. You know, if you want me to, I can show you the ropes of the school…"  
She smiles brightly and all I want to do is kiss her.  
“Of course. That would be great.” She gives me a look.  
"Let's go dance."  
I've had just enough drinks to think dancing is acceptable.  
I'm very bad at it.  
But it's fun as hell, especially when the dance floor is crowded with other wasted people and you’re with a really hot girl.  
We dance for a while, just fucking around, and after a bit, she looks up at me.  
“I think it’s about time for us to get out of here.”  
I smile. "My place or yours?"  
“My place is shit.” She laughs.  
"Mine it is, then." I take her hand and pull her outside to my motorcycle.  
I get on and she does too, and once her arms wrap around me…  
All I can think about is him.  
I shove that out of my brain and focus on the hot girl behind me.  
I speed home and Pierre is still here.  
Shit.  
I take her hand and help her off the bike and say, "We have to be quiet."  
“No problem.”  
I lead her into the house and quickly pull her upstairs.  
I'm sure he’s in the kitchen, and he heard me come home...but hopefully he won't bother us.  
As soon as we get into my room, I pull her into a kiss, running my hands through her soft brown hair.  
I then pick her up and carry her straight to the bed, enjoying every single moment.  
The nice thing about sex is it’s very good at distracting me.  
I have a tendency to overthink and worry about everything, and sex is just really fucking fun.  
She pulls my shirt off and I pull hers off too. It's only fair.  
She runs her hands up and down my back as I kiss her neck, and all I can think about is how much I needed this. I'm glad I went to that party.

End


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
Josiah's P.O.V.

-Tuesday, September 7th-  
Alexa didn’t come home last night. Our aunt was pissed for approximately five minutes, screaming at me about it, like I had anything to do with the fact that she suddenly disappeared.  
Then she was okay again. And she went to bed without another worry.  
Avery was happy about it because she got to sleep on the couch. Lucky her.  
I was the only one who was concerned.   
But, she showed up at school today. So I guess she’s fine.  
Knowing her, she was probably out doing drugs with the other crazy people who go to this school. She must get along with them well.  
She came over and sat by me at lunch. With Avery.  
It’s very strange to have someone by me.  
“...Where were you last night?” I finally ask.  
“A party.” She shrugs, eating her food that Avery made.   
“You got invited to a party on your first day of school?” I feel like that’s unlikely.   
It’s probably a cover story for whatever she actually did.   
“I did. I’m already popular as fuck.”  
“Then why are you over here with me?”  
“So I could brag.”  
Whatever. She should know by now that I don’t care.  
“Like it matters to him.” Avery remarks.  
Of course it doesn’t. Why would I care what she does? As long as she isn’t dead, I’m fine with it.  
“I don’t care what you do.” I tell Alexa.  
“I think you’ll care.” She says, starting to laugh.  
I pull my blue sleeves over my hands. “Why?” I play along.  
“Because I got lucky with Damien Cohen.”   
...What?  
Damien?  
“Shut up. Don’t say things like that. It isn’t funny.” I mutter.  
“I did. I went to his house. It was amazing. He seemed to really like me.” She goes on.  
“Of course he would. You’re easy.” Avery says, and I’m pretty sure Alexa hits her shoulder for saying that.   
“I don’t believe you.” I murmur.  
“Believe it. I just had to see why you talk about him so much. I know why now. He’s hot as hell.”   
“Why would that matter to me?”  
“There’s nothing else appealing about him. If it’s not that, I don’t know what else you see in him.” She chuckles.  
“Because...he’s nice.”   
Both of them laugh at that.   
“Nice?” Avery repeats, “He doesn’t look nice.”   
Alexa turns to face the same direction as Avery is. I follow the movement and do the same, but of course, I can’t see anything.  
So that was pointless.  
“What’s he staring over here for?” Alexa questions.  
“Stop it. Go away.” I rub my head.   
“I’m serious. He’s staring at us. He’s probably wondering why someone like me is hanging out with a loser like you.”   
“He’s probably thinking about how he has never seen you in his life.” I argue.  
Damien wouldn’t do something like that.  
“I doubt he could forget how much fun we had last night. Fuck, he’s so muscular. He could throw you if he ever decided to.”  
“He wouldn’t.” I persist.  
“It was so hot. He’s great in bed. So eager. He liked it when I ran my nails down his back.”  
I pull on my hair, trying to resist tears coming to my eyes. “You’re lying…”  
“His house was insane. At least ten times bigger than your crummy house. I wanna live there and fuck him every day.” She goes on.  
“He was that good?” Avery questions.  
“Don’t even think about it. You’re too young for him… Or maybe not. Maybe he would like an innocent freshman. Someone little and sweet that he could break.”   
“I hope so. He’s sexy as hell. I’d let him destroy me.”   
“S…Stop…” I say again, begging them by now.  
“Damn. I want him again. I want him to force my legs open and-“   
“-Why would y-you do anything w-with him?!” I stop her, giving in to the fact that she isn’t lying about any of this.  
“Because you like him. You won’t stop talking about him at home, so I figured there must be something special about him. Or, do you always get crushes like this?”   
“I don’t have a crush on Damien Cohen, or anyone, for that m-matter. I never have.” I argue with her more.  
“What a load of bullshit. You wouldn’t get so pissy over me having sex with him if you didn’t.”   
“That isn’t w-why I d-don’t like it…” I wince, rubbing tears out of my eyes.  
“It can’t just be because of your dad. You would bitch about it just as much if I said I went on a cute, innocent, little date with him.” She points out.  
“I-I wouldn’t. I don’t c-care what you d-do.”   
“I know you don’t. You care what he does.”   
“Don’t t-try to analyze m-me. You d-don’t know me…” I stare at the floor.   
“Fine. Don’t expect the door to be unlocked when you get home.” She says.  
My eyes shoot up to her. “What?”  
“If you’re going to fight with me and fucking cry like a baby, then I’m not letting you into the house.”   
“You can’t do that.”   
“I can do whatever I want! It isn’t like Aunt Dahlia is gonna care. I’m the oldest! That makes me the boss of both of you. I have decided that, for being a little bitch, you can stay out on the porch tonight.” She says.  
“It isn’t even your house.” I cry.  
“It’s more my house than it is yours.”   
I drop my head into my hands.   
“She’s right. And you realize that if you weren’t such a brat, no one would have to punish you, right?” Avery points out.  
“I know.” I sigh.  
-Wednesday, September 8th-  
When Damien approaches me after everyone has left the school, I just stare at him, not saying anything to him or moving at all.  
I haven’t been so tired in a long time.  
Monday night was hard enough, worrying about Alexa… I didn’t sleep hardly at all.  
Last night, I just kinda wandered around town. I don’t know how I ended up getting back home, but I did, and that’s all that matters.  
I lean against the wall and bring my stare to the ground, looking at his black shoes that matched the rest of his black outfit. He’s a black blob.  
“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming today?” He asks.  
“I-I don’t know… I’m tired. Maybe we should s-skip today…” I murmur.   
“We can’t skip! What about that quiz that’s coming up?”   
I run my fingers through my hair and look up at him again.   
It’s weird to think of him having...relations...with Alexa.   
“I-I didn’t s-sleep last night. I should g-go home. You c-can study on y-your own.” I tell him.  
It’s not like I ever help much anyway,  
“Oh... Alright. Let me drive you, at least. I do a lot better with you… At studying, I mean.”   
“...Maybe we can work for a little while.” I really don’t want to go home. I just know that I should.   
It’s a serious struggle…  
“If you really need me.” I add.   
“You help a lot, but if you don’t want to, I won’t force you.”  
“I want to. I’m just tired. I don’t know what to do.”  
I already had enough trouble trying to pay attention at school today. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make myself pay attention to him.  
“Why don’t we go eat dinner then see how you feel? Sound good? We can make you grilled cheese. I can guarantee you’ll like it. And if you are still really tired, I’ll take you home.”   
“You’re going to grill cheese...?”  
“It’s a sandwich. You’ll like it.”   
I fiddle with my sleeves, nodding. “Okay… We can eat and try to study.”  
I finally make the move to follow him, so he leads me to his motorcycle, as usual.   
I can’t stop thinking about everything Alexa said…  
Should I just ask him about it?  
“Damien,” I begin, “Can I ask you about something?”  
“Sure. What’s up with you? You seem weird today.” He remarks.  
“I already told you that I’m tired. I wanted to talk to you about something my cousin said.”  
“Right. What did your cousin say?” He asks after I’m quiet for a moment.  
“She said she met you at a party on Monday. And you guys...did stuff. She said that’s why she didn’t come home that night. Because...she was with you.”  
I trace my eyes over the motorcycle. It’s just a black blur.  
...So is Damien…  
“Oh my God… That was your cousin? I should have known. Jesus…” He murmurs, “Sorry. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have…”  
“Is that something you usually do? Just...doing bad things with people you don’t even know?”   
Stuff that I wouldn’t do with someone I’ve known my whole life because it’s too intimate and scary… He did with someone he met half an hour before.  
“Yeah. Just about every time I go to a party and get shitfaced drunk.” He says.  
“You shouldn’t drink. It will kill you.” I warn.  
He’s so nice most of the time. I keep forgetting this is who he really is.  
He’s a rule breaker.  
He’s awful.  
“I can only hope.” He chuckles as he gets onto his bike.  
Now they’re both just one big black blur.  
Honestly, I’m upset that I don’t know what he looks like.  
“No. Don’t say that.” I start this shit again.  
He keeps saying bad things, and doing bad things.   
He isn’t going to stop just because I don’t like it. I need to shut the hell up.  
“Don’t tell me what to say. Are you coming, or not?”   
“I’m coming. Sorry.” I give in.  
I climb up behind him and wrap my arms around him, as always.   
I think he’s less freaked out by this now. Since we have done it so many times.  
“I would rather you don’t do things with my cousin anymore. Even though she thinks you’re hot.” I say.  
“She was hot, too… But I don’t make a habit out of having sex with people more than once.”  
...He’s just a bad person.  
I don’t know why I’m helping him with anything.  
“That’s a good thing in this case, at least.” I mutter.  
He starts up the bike.   
I hate the noise it makes. It freaks me out every time.   
The wind gets too intense when he goes fast. I constantly feel like I’m going to fall off…  
Or that he’ll throw himself off. With all of these jokes he keeps making.   
Does he even have a car? Those are so much safer.   
It’s a few minutes before we end up at his house. Finally.  
He still puts a hand out for me to take to help me off of the bike.  
I don’t need it. I get off of it on my own and start following him again.  
“...So, how do you do the grilled cheese sandwich thing?” I ask.   
“Bread on each side, then just melted cheese in the middle. They’re good. I think you’ll like them.”   
“Are you going to eat some?” He doesn't eat the nuggets. It feels weird when he makes things specifically for me.  
“No. I want eggs.”  
‘Why can’t I just have an egg?” I suggest.  
“You won’t like it, probably. You can try one, if you want to.”   
“Are they gross?” Why wouldn’t I like it?  
"I like them. But....you only like kids' food. Like nuggets and stuff. Trust me. I think you'll like the grilled cheese more." He says leading me inside, holding the door open for me.  
"Kids’ food?" I repeat.   
I go in and look around the house again. It's such a big house. Shocks me every time.   
"Kids’ food." He confirms.  
"I don't think kids eat differently than adults do, though. What's that supposed to mean?"   
"They do. They eat kid food. Like you eat. I don't know how to explain it, but I bet you hate eggs. Let me just make you a grilled cheese."  
I watch him as he goes to the kitchen to make the food. I only follow close enough to sort of see him.   
I'm mad at him for being bad.   
"What?"  
"I keep telling you that you're not scary and that you're nice. I forgot that you're bad."   
"...I'm a bad person. I know. But you can't get anywhere being nice."  
"I still think you're nice. You just break a lot of rules. You keep doing it because you don't get punished." I shrug.   
It's almost not his fault. People are all born selfish. He just hasn't been taught out of it.  
"Maybe. Or maybe I do it hoping I will get punished."  
"You won't. You're too big and scary. No one wants to yell at you or hit you because you'll kill them." I point out.   
"Maybe."  
That's definitely why.   
Everyone's scared of him. But I'm not. That's why I'm not going to filter myself around him.   
I'm too tired to do this right now though.   
"Can I sit at the table while you make the food?" I ask him.   
"If you want. Or you can sit in here with me. We have the stools."  
"...Where are they? I want to sit with you."   
He goes over to the counter in the middle and pulls out a seat. "Here."  
I walk over to it and sit down. "So. You don't like grilled cheese."   
"Oh, I like it. It's very good."  
"You called it kids’ food."  
"Kids’ food is still good food. I just don't want it."  
What the fuck?   
I decide to go with it.   
"Okay."   
I wonder if he'll teach me how to make food. It would make sneaking it a lot easier...  
I'm just counting the minutes until I get in trouble for that anyway, though.   
"You're good at making food." I remark.  
"Pierre had me cook with him all the time when I was little. And i still like to help him sometimes. I'm nowhere near as good as him. And grilled cheese isn’t exactly hard."  
"That's cool. I want to learn how to cook."   
It seems hard.   
"I don't know about that. They're knives and flames and you can't see shit."  
"I can handle knives! I'm not going to cut myself or anything. And fire isn't a problem, either! I already burnt my hand on a stove a long time ago. I know not to touch fire."   
I'm not an idiot.   
"I don't like it."  
"Why?"  
"It's too easy to hurt yourself."  
"I'm not going to, though. I'm always very careful." I get up and go over to him at the oven.   
"It's not worth the risk. Besides, I like cooking."  
"There's no risk..." I mumble.   
Maybe one day, he'll let me help. Even if he likes doing it on his own.   
He finishes cooking on his own. We both eat, and I have to admit that the sandwich is pretty good. It could be better, but I liked it.   
The egg, however...  
He let me try it and the texture and taste were both so awful that I made him promise to not let me try things he knows I won't like.   
When he asked me if I wanted to do some studying or not, I said that we should. Since I really don't want to go home.   
I'm just tired.   
I tell him to read the stuff out loud to me so I don't have to try to read it. And to 'help with terminology and pronunciation'.   
Not having to read things just makes me more tired.   
Within ten minutes, I feel myself start to drift off. It's hard to stay awake.   
"Hey, you good? We can stop if you want."  
I push my glasses up onto my head, messing up my hair. I rub my eyes.   
"I'm okay."   
I don't want to go home.   
"I can take you home. You keep falling asleep." He chuckles  
"Don't make me go home..." I murmur.   
As soon as I take my hands away from my eyes, I feel like I'm going to fall asleep right in this chair.   
"Do you want to just stay here for the night? I'll sleep on the couch. "  
"I-I think I would get in trouble. Alexa didn't get in trouble, but..." I rub my eyes again, "I don't want to get yelled at again. I'll just stay awake. We can keep going, so I can keep putting off going home."   
"We don't have to study. We can like...watch a movie or do something more chill."  
"...Can we? Really?"   
"Sure. Why not?" He says, getting up  
"I'm kind of getting the feeling that you're trying to skip studying again."   
He closes the schoolbook.   
"No. I'm worried about the quiz. I'll study after I take you home later."  
"Okay..." I get up slowly, "You want to watch a movie? Like, what movie?"   
"Whatever you want. We have Netflix." He says leading me out of the dining room.  
He brings me to the couch across from the TV. I sit down and lean my head against the back.  
"I don't know what Netflix is." I say as he sits on the opposite end of the couch.   
I feel like he's too far away.  
"It's a streaming service. You can watch movies and shows on it. What do you want to watch?"  
He seems to pick up a remote, turning the TV on and going to 'Netflix'.   
"I can't see it. Is there anything just, like...cute? Something fun and peaceful?"   
"Shut. I didn't think about that. We could watch a Disney movie. I wanna watch the one about cats..."  
"Cats? What one about cats? Why? Do you like cats?" I question.  
"I love cats. I want one but my mom's allergic."  
"I want one, too! I love animals. You can get a pet once you move out," I point out to him, "I want a pet, but last time I asked for one, my aunt said she would kill anything I brought home. So I can't."   
"That's a really fucked up way to say it but yeah. I want a dog someday too."  
"Hopefully the cat and dog will get along."   
"Hopefully." He says starting the movie.  
I make it through a couple minutes before ultimately closing my eyes and just relaxing.   
Just relaxing doesn't last long. I fall asleep pretty quickly afterwards.   
Luckily, though, Damien wakes me up as soon as I drift off. I get the feeling that he's a bit concerned.   
"...Are you going to make me go home now?"   
We're about halfway into the movie, I think. And it's a pretty good one.   
"If you're not going to stay, then yes. Why are you so tired? Did you sleep at all?"  
I sigh and pull my knees up to my chest. "No. I got in trouble yesterday."   
"Why? If you don't mind me asking."  
"I was fighting with Alexa, so she locked me outside. I kept telling her that she shouldn't go out and party and stuff... I made her really mad." I describe.   
I run my fingers through my hair, pulling as I do so.   
"That bitch. She locked you outside? Jesus Christ."  
"Yeah. It's okay. I'm just worried that she's still mad, and that they're all going to gang up on me, and I'll be in more trouble than I already was."   
"Then stay here." He suggests quietly. "If they're mad either way, it doesn't matter."  
"But if they aren't mad now, then they will be if I don't come home. It's just that, it's hard for me to want to go home when there's a possibility they're all going to scream at me all night."   
I pull my hair again, sighing deeply. "I don't know what to do. I just want to sleep. I don't want to get yelled at."   
"That sucks. You shouldn't have to deal with that. Why don't you sleep for a few hours and I'll wake you up and have you home by 9:00."  
I stare up at the ceiling. "Is that really a good idea?"   
It doesn't change the fact that I don't want to go home.   
"Why not? I'll set an alarm on my phone and that way you can sleep and I'll study."  
"And you won't do anything to me?" I ask cautiously.   
"No. I won't. I can go in the other room if you want me too. You seem really tired. Or you can go up into my room and sleep there. It's up to you."  
I don't like how he always says that. He says it with the assumption that I know what I want enough to make a choice.   
"You don't have to go anywhere. I'll just sleep here for a little while. You're going to wake me up and bring me home, right?"   
"Of course. Do you want a blanket?"  
"Yes...please. Thank you, Damien." I say softly.   
He leaves and quickly comes back with something in his hands. "This ones my favorite. It’s the softest and it’s blue."  
I don't know why, but I feel tears threatening my eyes. Probably because I'm so tired and all I want is to sleep and feel safe for one moment...  
"Thank you." I say again as he hands it to me.   
"Of course. Get some sleep. You need it."  
I nod and pull the blanket over me.   
I really don't know if Damien is a bad person or not. He sort of flips back and forth between being good and being bad.   
Or maybe he should be considered bad for helping me...?   
I don't know.   
It doesn't matter. He keeps me safe and that's all I need to know about him.

End


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
Damien’s P.O.V.

-Friday, September 10th-   
After Josiah found out I slept with his cousin on accident, he hasn't quite been the same.   
On Friday morning, I decide to pack him a lunch and drop it off to him.  
He doesn’t eat nearly enough and we have plenty all the time.  
If this doesn't make him happy, I don’t know what will.  
I make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and pack some other snack food I bought just to keep in the house for him, and on each little bag, I write a dinosaur fact in big lettering. Hopefully, he doesn't miss it.  
Just in case, at the top of the bag, I put one more note.

Don't say I've never done anything nice.  
-Damien  
P.S. there's a dino fact on each wrapper so don't just yeet them into the trash.

...  
Before I go to my lunch table that day, I go over to his. No one is with him yet.  
Sometimes, his cousins sit with him.  
"Here. See you tonight." I say, dropping it in front of him.  
Hunter and Ethan aren't here yet, but I don't want to risk anything.  
“What is this?” He asks, looking at it curiously.  
"Lunch. I have to go." I say, leaving him.   
I sit at my table and watch him open the bag.  
He puts the green sticky note up close to his face and after a second, he smiles.  
I can’t get over how much I wish I could make him smile all the time.  
The other day when he fell asleep at my house…  
There’s just something about him that makes me want to protect him.  
His home life seems kinda shitty, and the more I can do, the better.  
Whoever his aunt is...if I ever meet her, I might beat her ass. I don't care if she's a girl, she deserves it.  
Normally that's my rule. I don't hit girls.  
But I might make an exception for her.  
I think I'm going to just start bringing him lunch. That way I know he's eating something at least once a day.  
…  
After school lets out I stand by my bike, waiting for him.  
Hunter and Ethan have accepted my new routine, and to my surprise, they're not being too bad about it.  
Josiah is wrong. If they weren't real friends, they wouldn't do that.  
He approaches and I get on my bike. "Let's go, Walker."  
“First. Why did you put dinosaur facts in that stuff? Did you seriously waste time googling those and writing them down?” He laughs.  
I shift a bit. I was hoping he wouldn't bring it up. "I thought it would be nice! And no. I got a book of them actually, 101 Dinosaur Facts."  
“A book of dinosaur facts? Why?”  
I look down, my feeling my face flush. "For your lunches."  
I've been caught.  
“R-Really…? That’s so nice. I love it so much. The facts and the lunch. Thanks.”  
"I feel really bad about the other day and wanted us to just...go back to normal."  
Well, normal for us. Whatever that is.  
“Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past.” He shrugs.   
Thank God.  
"In that case, let's go." I gesture behind me.  
“Okay.” He gets up onto the bike.  
When he wraps his arms around me, I focus on not flinching so much that there's a bit of a pause.  
FUCK.  
I'll never get this right.   
His touch is so warm...even through my jacket.  
It's like I'm on fucking fire. And I don't know if it's in a bad way.  
Please don't pick up on it...  
I quickly start the bike, hoping he didn't notice.   
I'm trying to be better about it, because it's fucking weird.  
There's no reason it should bother me at all.  
“You’re getting better at starting it without me having to tell you to.” He says.  
"I have no clue what you're talking about." I say, focusing on the road.  
He talks up a bit over the bike, but since he's right against me, it's not too hard to hear.  
“You always freeze up. Like you’re having Vietnam flashbacks.”   
"Maybe I am. You don't know me." I laugh, attempting to get the conversation away from the issue.  
“I know more about you than you think I do.”  
I don't like the sound of that.  
"I doubt it." I say, speeding up. I like seeing him when I talk.  
“I really do. I know a lot about everyone at school.”  
"Yeah? What do you know about me?"  
Rumors I'm sure. 98% of which are not true.  
“A lot of rather inappropriate things after Tuesday.”   
Shit.  
"Did...your cousin say shit?"  
He would be pissed to know I don't remember her name.  
And it's not like she's the first girl to spread stuff. Usually it's good. But occasionally, I'll get the bitter girl who thinks she has some sort of claim on me just because we've had sex.  
“Yeah…” He presses his head against my back.  
God, it feels nice.  
I can’t keep thinking shit like that if I want things to be normal.  
"Well, ignore her. If I could take it back, I would."  
“Why? Is something wrong with her?”  
"What? No. It was...nice. But it bothers you. So if I could take it back, I would."  
“It would bother me no matter who it was. Don’t change your lifestyle for me.”  
"I wasn't planning on it. Why does it bother you no matter who I'm with? It doesn't involve you in the slightest."  
Does he…?  
No. That’s dumb.   
I'm not going to think about that.  
...He did say he was gay.  
“I don’t think going around having sex with people is safe nor moral. It’s bad.”  
"It's not bad, or unsafe. I always use like protection. Besides, you have morals and shit? I thought you only had those if you were like religious. Which you are not."  
It's not about me.  
Why does that make me a little disappointed?  
It wouldn't matter if he did like me that way, I'm not interested.  
“What? Of course I do. I have morals that come from my rules. That’s how it works. Has nothing to do with religion or any sort of beliefs.”  
"Your rules?" I ask, pulling into the garage.  
I stay on the bike, waiting for an explanation.  
”Yes. The rules that keep me from getting in trouble. It makes me upset when other people break them.”  
"But they're your rules...not mine. Or anyone else’s. What are they?" I ask, getting off, offering him a hand.  
He's never going to take it. He hasn't yet and he won't ever.  
“I don’t think we have time for all of that. It would take all day.”  
"Jesus. There are that many?" My hand is still out, and he's still on the bike. He has to know my hands out.  
He thinks it’s funny, I bet.  
To make me just wait.  
“Yeah, because I have my dad’s, my aunt’s, the school’s, and now Alexa’s, and Avery’s.”  
"That seems hard to remember, much less follow all of them "  
My hand is still out…  
Just take it.  
“It is. That’s why I get in trouble a lot.” He says, reaching out and gently taking my hand.  
I…  
His hands are so soft.  
I don't…  
I don't know what to do.  
I freeze a second, looking down at our hands, not liking how nice it feels.  
I look down into his big eyes, before pulling him up gently.  
He's really, really close.  
I don't move back.  
He looks up at me. “I was right. That didn’t help much.”  
"Oh. Sorry." I stare down at him, unable to move.  
“You’re too close.” He says.  
Oh.  
I snap out of it and step back. "That's my line."  
He laughs, “It’s my line when you touch me.”  
"Fair. You didn't have to take my hand." I say, leading him inside.  
“I wanted to see if it would help.”  
"And it didn't at all?"  
“No. It just made you get too close.”   
"Right. Maybe we did it wrong."  
I’m not going to stop offering my hand.  
That would be...rude.  
“We’ll just have to keep trying, then.”  
To my surprise, my parents are here.  
Dad's in his home office and mom's watching something on the TV.  
"Shit. My parents are here. Let's study upstairs today."  
They're never home… This is weird.  
“I thought I wasn’t allowed upstairs.” He chuckles.   
"I'll....walk behind you. That way, if you fall, I can catch you like a damsel in distress." I smile at the thought.  
"I would rather fall."  
"Wow. Okay. Just go slow." I say to him, still following up behind him.  
He goes slowly, and once we make it to the top, I say, "Wow. We didn't even die. Look at that."  
"I told you. I walk upstairs at school every day, dumb-ass."   
"I know, but..." I sigh, "Whatever."  
I lead him into my room and shut the door behind us. I go to the couch and sit cross legged on it, balancing my books on my knees.  
"I'm worried about the quiz on Monday." I admit as he sits hesitantly beside me. It's a loveseat, so there's not much space between us.  
"Don't be. You'll do great. With how well you've been doing, I bet you'll get a B at least."   
"I want an A. I've never gotten one."   
That's why I need to study more. And harder. I want to show him he's helping. Because he is. "Then all you need to do is study more. I think you have it figured out. You already don't really need me."   
"No. I need you. You keep me focused," I say, "Besides, you get to study, too. It's not like you're wasting any time..."  
I can't let him think that I don't need him anymore.   
Maybe if I...   
"Actually, I don't get...this one." I say, pointing to a random problem.   
I don't want him to think I don't need him… Then I wont get to see him anymore...   
He grabs the book and turns it a bit, leaning over to look at it instead of bringing it to his face.   
"I know you know how to figure this out. I've already taught you all of this."   
"...No. I’m still confused." I want him to stay...because i still need help in everything.  
"You're smart, Damien. Don't pretend that you're not." He looks up into my eyes.   
"I'm not smart… I’m a dumb-ass, remember? I need your help because you're smart."  
I...I think I want to be friends.  
No. No, I told myself I wouldn't. I told him I wouldn't. But he makes me smile, and if we keep doing this, no one needs to know but us. I could pack him lunches and send him memes during school.  
And after school on study days, we can study some then watch a movie or something, like we did last time...   
I don't want him to go.   
"You're not a dumb-ass. I just say that to make you mad."  
"Right. Well, I still need you."   
"Why? I know I don't keep you focused. We keep ending up just talking. That's the opposite of focusing."  
"We do fine. In fact, I think we do better this way. No need to change anything."  
"I didn't even do anything last time... But you studied, didn't you? And you're going to do great on the quiz, because now you know that you need to study to do well. With or without me." "Fine," I sigh, running a hand through my hair, "I don't want you to quit coming over."   
"I don't want to, either. It's nice here." He says.   
"Then stay and help."   
"I never said I wanted to leave. I'll help you when you really need it. You need to at least try, though."   
"I am. I just...was afraid you wouldn't come over anymore if I knew what was going on." I admit.  
It's weird, but kind of refreshing to just say what's on my mind.  
With Ethan and Hunter, I have to be guarded. They're more sensitive than he is.   
"I'm not leaving until I need to, or until you make me. Just do the problems."   
"Wait...promise?"  
I get so lonely. The idea of not taking him home everyday...  
"Of course. I feel safe here. Why would I leave?"   
"I don't know," I admit, "I was just checking. I knew you were mad the other day...and it just made me think, that’s all."   
"I'm not mad at you. I am having a hard time trying to remind myself that you're not usually as nice and gentle as you are with me."   
"Why does it matter? Who I am with everyone else?" I shift away from him a bit, "As long as I'm nice to you."   
"How you treat other people is what you're capable of doing. I can't really trust you, because I know what you do to other people."  
"But what you're asking is for me to give up everything. If I want you to trust me."   
Literally everything.  
My friends are my life. With them, comes my reputation, and my need to uphold it. I can't just....drop them.  
I can't imagine how horribly that would go down.  
"Don't worry about it. I don't trust anyone."   
But for the first time in a long time, I want someone to trust me. I want him to trust me.  
I let it go.   
And I go back to studying.  
...   
At the end of the study session, I'm feeling more confident about the quiz.  
"You do help, really." I say.  
I hold my hand up for a high-five.  
He immediately moves back and winces, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his head defensively with his hands.   
I back up off the couch immediately.   
"No, I didn't… I'm not going to hurt you, Josiah..." I stay away from him, "It was a high-five." I keep my voice as soft as possible.   
I don't want to scare him.   
He peeks his eyes open and stares blankly at me, not lowering his hands or responding.   
"What do you want me to do? I can...take you home? Or make you a snack, or… I’m sorry." I offer desperately.   
"I-I...I'm sorry. Don't hit me." He mumbles, not seeming to listen to me.   
"I’m not going to hit you. Not now or ever.” I promise, not moving, terrified I’ll scare him again.  
I don't want him to be afraid.  
He finally lowers his hands. "Stay away from me."   
"Okay. I’m sorry." I say, just sitting on the floor.  
"I just need a minute. I'm sorry." He sighs, rubbing his head.  
"It’s okay. Take your time."   
Why is he so untrusting?  
I’m not mean not to him.  
After a minute of just sitting there with wide eyes, pulling his hair, he seems to relax a bit.  
"It's not your fault." He says softly.   
"It kinda seems like my fault." I say, staring up at him from the floor, not moving until he quits freaking out. I don't know what else to do.   
"It isn't. I-I just...s-sometimes I freak out for n-no reason. I'm sorry."  
"It’s okay. Really. I'll just stay right here, out of your way ‘till you're done. Do you need...anything?" I offer, desperate to help, but not knowing how.   
"I'm done. I'm f-fine. Just pretend it d-didn't happen..."   
"Okay. Can I get up now?"  
"Y-Yeah... You're okay." He tugs his sleeves over his hands.   
He's wearing a light blue sweater that matches his eyes. It's a really nice sweater. It looks soft...   
I get up slowly.  
"I'm going to get my books and put them away. Is that okay?" They're on the couch beside him.   
"Okay, just...please don't touch me."   
"I won't." I promise.   
I gather my stuff and put it in my bag quickly. "Do you want me to drive you home?"  
"I...don't want to touch. I don't w-want the motorcycle." He says, rubbing tears out of his eyes.   
"Don't cry. Please. We can take the car. You don't have to touch me, I swear."   
I don't know why touching me is so bad... But I just don't want him crying. Anything but that.  
"Car?"   
"Yeah. I have a car." I admit.   
"Why did y-you make me use the...the motorcycle, then?" He asks.  
"Because. It's what I drive. I don't drive the car. Unless I have to."   
Because I wanted to be close to you.   
"Don't make me use it again." He looks up at me with those tearful bright blue eyes.   
God. Anything to make him stop crying.  
"Okay," I murmur softly, "I’ll start driving you in the car. Please just quit crying."   
"I c-can't. I'm sorry. D-Don't be mad." He rubs his eyes again, more violently this time.   
"I'm not mad. I don't mind, really. I would rather you be comfortable."   
I mind. I don't like the car nearly as much, but if it makes him happy… Whatever makes him stop crying.   
"Whenever you want, I’ll drive you home...in the car."   
"Can I... Can I have s-something to drink first? Juice?"   
"Yeah. I'll go get you some." I say, leaving the room and taking the stairs way quicker than safe, glad to have something I can do to help.   
I pour a cup, and as I run back upstairs, mom yells at me to quit running in the house. I don't.   
I slow down at the top and open the door quietly. "All we have is orange juice. Is that okay?" I ask, opening the door.   
"Y-Yeah..."   
I hold it out to him. "Here."   
"Thanks." He takes it cautiously.   
"Of course. Anything to help." I say, sitting on the bed, giving him space.  
I don't know why he freaked like that. Does he really think I'm going to hurt him?  
"...Next time, if you could just say high five first. Please." He murmurs.   
"Yeah. I will. I’m sorry."   
"Thanks... Don't feel bad. It really wasn't your fault."   
"Okay. I won't." I will.   
I don't get it at all. We were having fun, like, six minutes ago. And now... I had to have fucked something up.   
I wish I hadn't fucked his cousin...  
A... Amy? Ali?   
I don't care. She's not important.   
I watch him slowly take a drink of juice with shaky hands.  
If I could touch him, I would hug him. He looks so miserable.   
"You're lying. I'm s-serious, you don't have to feel bad. It was my fault."   
"I'll...try not to. How the fuck would it be your fault? You got scared. It's okay."   
"I got scared for no reason. I'm not allowed to get scared for no reason. It’s against the rules.”  
"You can with me. I don't have rules for you. You don't have to follow rules with me."   
"No way. I'll get in trouble. I-I'm already d-doing enough shit. I can't keep..." He trails off weakly.  
"Breaking the rules is okay here. I won't punish you for anything. It won't hurt for you to just relax. You're so high strung all the time. Just drink your juice and breathe."   
"I can't- Damien... You don't need to be nice to me."   
"I do need to be nice to you." I admit softly.   
“Why?”  
"Because I don't think anyone is nice to you, and everyone deserves someone that is nice to them, especially someone as amazing as you, Josiah," I sigh, "I know. The bully is talking about being nice.”  
It's dumb, but... I have no real answer for him.   
I don't know if I've ever called him Josiah out loud until today. It seems so...intimate.   
"I-I... You... Really? Are you s-serious? I don't need anyone to be n-nice to me. I'm okay."   
"I'm dead serious. It’s not okay. I want...to be nice to you. I want to make you lunch, with dinosaur facts and stickers. And I want to drive you to and from school so you don't have to walk. Because...I want to be your...friend."   
There. I admitted it.   
"I know. I said I wouldn't ever, but..." I go on, looking down and crossing my arms, "I think we could be good friends...outside of school. Like we are now."   
He stares blankly at me for a moment, before taking a sip of his juice. "That would be a major waste of time for you."   
"W-What? Why?" I shuffle my feet.   
I shouldn't have been so open. This happens every time I get to close with someone… I fuck it up.   
"Sorry, if I was too forward. I can just take you home if you want..."   
"Don't get upset like I insulted you. I'm just saying that I'm not a good friend...not that you have any good friends, but... I think you should."   
"That's why I’m asking you."   
"I'm not good by any means, Damien."   
"I mean, I think you're a good friend. If you let it happen."   
"I don't know if we should risk what we have now..." He says.   
"We don't have anything now. What we have now isn't even anything. I just want to be your friend."   
"You said if being friends doesn't work out, then we'll go back to not knowing each other. Then I won't be able to come here and eat or relax or whatever anymore..."   
"It's going to work." It has to, I don't like the idea of him being alone anymore. It scares me. Because all the sudden, I care. And now I have to look out for him.  
"You don't know that."   
"I know it. I can tell. I have a gut feeling. And my intuition doesn't steer me wrong. What do you say? Can we just be friends?"   
"Okay... But still no talking at school?"   
"Ethan and Hunter would....be mad. But you can text all you want." I wish we could all just get along, but they would beat the shit out of him in a heartbeat.   
"Um… I can't promise anything, but I can try."   
If my friends found out… Oh, God...   
"I can text you if I need help, then?" He asks.   
"You can. But I don't know if I can come to the rescue every time."  
I don't want him thinking friends means I'll be able to fix everything.  
"I know. I'm sorry. I just figured that, you're so concerned about me when I'm here, but at school...you know."   
"Yeah. It’s understandable. I can't...stop all the bullying, but I can handle fucking Logan Haas."   
"Thanks, and... Can I ask you to do one more thing?"   
“Yeah.”  
"If something happens at home... C-Can I come here? Like, if I get locked out again. Or if they're really mad."   
"Of course. You can come anytime. Or, if you want...give me your phone." I say, and he hands it over. I put a number in before giving it back. "I put Pierre's number in, too. That way if you need something and I don't answer, you can call him. Okay? But you can come over here and stay as long as you want to."  
"He's an adult... Can I really trust him?"   
"I trust him with everything. You don't have to call him if you don't want to. But I just like knowing he's there if you need him."  
“Okay. I-I’ll call him if I can’t reach you.”  
“Good. Are you...feeling any better?”  
I doubt it, but I don't know what else to say.  
I wish I could tell him everything would be okay.  
But I can’t promise shit like that.  
“Yeah… I, uh… I really didn’t mean to flinch like that. I can’t see, so when I notice something come at me or move really fast, it’s a habit.”   
Right.  
“Well, I'll say it next time. I’ll try to be better about announcing stuff.”  
I don’t want to scare him, at all.  
“Thanks. It’ll be appreciated.” He mumbles.  
“Right, do you want to go home, or do you want to stay for a bit…?”  
I shuffle a bit.  
“Damien, I never want to go home. Just take me home whenever you’re sick of me.”  
"The problem is, I don't want you to leave," I shrug, "I guess that you're staying here."  
"I should be home by bedtime... around 8 or 9." He says.   
"Well then, we have a few hours," I look at him, "Can I sit back down beside you? Or do you want me to stay over here?"   
"You can do whatever you want."   
"Let me rephrase that. Will you be upset if I sit down beside you?"  
"Probably."   
"Then I'll stay over here," I pause for a moment, "So...do you want more dinosaur facts in your lunch on Monday?"  
"Yeah. I could barely read them, though."   
"I figured. I tried to write them bigger, but I don't know, like...how big… I guess that maybe I should just leave them out. I just thought it would be nice..."  
"I like them. And they're good the way they are. I could read it when I held it close. Like always." "Okay. I'll keep doing it, then. Is there anything else I can make for you? Or that you like to eat?" "I already told you before that I really don't know. I've always just eaten whatever they're willing to give me. I don't know what any of it is."   
"I just don't want to make something you don't like."  
He shifts a bit. "I guess so."  
I run a hand through my hair nervously. "I know you said it's not me, but I just want you to know I would never hurt you. Like, I'm mean to people. But not to you. Not on purpose."   
"You're used to hurting people and I'm used to getting hurt. So, it wouldn't matter if you did. Don't worry about it."   
"But..." I stare into his eyes, "I don't want to do that to you. I don't want to hurt you.”  
"I get hurt no matter where I go. Why would here need to be any different?"   
"I want you to feel safe. With me. Because you should feel safe with your friends. And I want to be your friend."   
"Yeah, we're friends... I'm just saying that I don't know how to do that. Feel safe or be friends."   
"Neither do I." I admit.   
"At least not like this."   
"But maybe we can figure it out."   
"Maybe. Do you feel safe with your friends?"   
"...Mostly. But it's a different type of relationship."   
"It's not different. And I wouldn't feel safe with your friends. Ever. I don't see how you are, even mostly."   
"Yeah. It's complicated. But maybe we can have something different. Be honest with each other. Be safe."   
It would be really nice to have someone I could just talk to. No matter what.   
"I've been honest with you. Have you been honest?"  
...About what was important.  
"Yeah. And I will be."   
Mostly... 

End


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
Josiah's P.O.V.

-Monday, September 13th-  
As soon as school is over, I go outside to wait. I wouldn’t mind making a habit out of this.   
Whenever I wasn’t in class, I was texting Damien. And he texted me during class sometimes, so I made sure to yell at him.   
He told me he did a pretty good job on his quiz, and that we would talk about it after school.   
This whole having a friend thing is nice. We talked all weekend. It made being cooped up in a corner much more...okay.   
I don’t know. It’s weird to think about.  
Something about being able to talk to him made everything feel less like a punishment.  
It’s not good. Maybe I should stop talking to him when I’m in trouble…   
No.   
I don’t want to.  
"Hey, nerd. You ready to go? I was thinking pizza for dinner." Damien snaps me out of my thoughts.   
“Pizza?” I repeat softly.  
"Yep. It's really good, and I want a treat ‘cause I got a good grade!"  
“I don’t know what that is. What grade did you get?” I ask him.   
"I got a B+!"  
“Are you kidding? I told you! You did great. Just like I said. I knew I was right.” I smile at him.  
"High five?"  
I hold my hand up for the high five and he does as he’s supposed to.  
It’s still cute. I don’t know why.  
“That’s so cute.” I murmur.  
"...What?"  
“You high fiving. It’s so cute.” I explain.  
"...Thanks?"  
“You don’t think cute is a compliment? Cute is a compliment. It’s a really good thing.”   
"I'm not cute. I'm scary." He claims.  
“I know you are. But, still cute. Which, again, is a good thing. There’s no greater compliment than being called cute.” I insist.  
"I don't think so… You ready to get outta here?"  
I was about to mention how much fun it is to make him stand here and just listen to me ramble about bullshit…  
“But what’s pizza?” I ask first.  
"Cheese and bread. You'll like it. Let's go."  
“Okay. Hey, what are we going to do if we try something and I’m allergic to it? And I die?” I start following him.  
"Guess I'd kill myself."  
“WHY?”  
"’Cause."  
I hate him.  
“I hate you.”  
"Cool. Same."  
AH.  
I give up.  
“Josiah,” A voice starts, and I stop in place, “Hey, why don’t I just drive you home tonight?”  
Alexa…  
She comes up to us, with Avery following in tow.  
“No way. You’ll spend the whole ride yelling at me.” I refuse.  
“So? Why are you bothering Damien with it? He doesn’t live anywhere near us.”   
That’s also true…  
“Damien…” I mumble.  
"He's helping me study tonight. I'll bring him home after. It's no big deal." He says.  
“Why are you having him help you? He’s not that smart.” Avery remarks.  
“Yes, I am.” I tell her.  
“You’re not. What? You think you’re a genius now?”   
I back off a bit, pretty much gravitating closer to Damien.  
"He is a genius. See you guys...hopefully never." He turns away, "Let's go, Walker."  
“I don’t think I can.” I mumble.  
I can’t see them. But I’m pretty sure Alexa and Avery are glaring daggers at me.  
“Do you realize what would happen if we told Aunt Dahlia about all of this?” Alexa points out to me.  
I knew I shouldn’t have told them anything. They know too much.  
“Y-Yeah…”  
He comes back, going up to her. "You're not telling her shit," He threatens, "We're not doing anything wrong. Besides, why the fuck would you care?" He asks Alexa.  
“Don’t act like you don’t know that you two are breaking all the rules he’s been given. Aunt Dahlia would be pissed. I don’t even want to imagine what she would do to him if she knew. That’s why he should just come home.” She says.  
"Don't tell her then. Your rules are bullshit and fucking hypocritical as hell. Why are you allowed to go out and party and fuck anything that walks but he can't go study?"  
“Because my dad wasn’t ever like his.” She responds sharply, “I didn’t make the rules. I just enforce them.”  
“We have to take responsibility for him.” Avery adds.  
“I don’t want to go home.” I mutter.  
Alexa goes to grab me and I immediately step behind Damien.  
He makes this sort of stuff a lot easier. Shame I can’t take him home with me.  
"Don't fucking touch him." He warns.  
“Do you want him to get in trouble?” She asks.  
"No. But, he doesn't want to go with you. He can make his own choices. If he wants to risk it, he can."  
Damien turns and looks over at me. "What do you want to do, Josiah?" He asks softly.  
“M-My aunt, Damien… I don’t want to be punished. I don’t want to go home.” I don’t know what I want.  
“I’m leaving. If you want to go with him and just deal with whatever the consequences are, then alright.” She shakes her keys a bit.  
“Damien. Keep me with you. Please.” I wince.  
"Okay."  
“Bye, then. Whatever happens later, just remember that you asked for it.” Alexa says, waiting a second before grabbing Avery’s wrist and leaving.  
I turn to Damien immediately. “What are they going to do to me? I messed up. I knew I was being bad.”  
"I don't know." He sounds…scared.  
“What if Aunt Dahlia kills me? This isn’t safe. I’m not going to be safe.” I pull on my sleeves.  
Damn it. What’s wrong with me?!  
"Hey. Calm down, okay? If...If you think she's going to legitimately kill you, call me. I'll be there in five minutes and I'll take you away."  
“R-Really?” I shiver, rubbing tears out of my eyes, staring up at him.  
"Really. This whole thing is bullshit and you shouldn't have to deal with it."  
I try to relax as much as I can.  
“We...c-can just celebrate the B+ right n-now. Then worry about it later. Right?” I wish I could stop thinking about it.  
"If that's what you want, then yes."  
“Thank you…”  
When he starts walking again, and I have to follow him, I reach out and grab the back of his jacket. “Hey, Damien…” I begin.  
He stops. "Yeah?"  
“I-I’m really proud of y-you...for not failing that quiz.”   
"Thank you. I...couldn't have done it without you."  
He says that. But it’s not true.  
He doesn’t need me to pass classes, or to be a friend…  
“Yeah. I’m glad we met.” I murmur.  
"I am, too."  
“I don’t want to let go of your jacket.”  
"Then don't. You'll have to, to get in the car, though."  
That’s rough.   
“You make me feel safe.” I pry my hand off of him.  
I don’t know how or why that’s how he affects me… He makes me feel more confident, and safer.  
"I don't know why. I'm literally what you’re supposed to be afraid of." He leads me to the car and stops me outside the passenger door. He opens the door for me and just waits.  
“Because you didn’t let Alexa hurt me. I know she would have, if you weren’t here. That’s why I need you.” I say.  
I stare into the car.  
I’m still pissed that he has had a car all this time and never bothered to use it.  
"You should get in." Is all he says.  
I do as told, getting into the car and immediately strapping on the seatbelt. He shuts the door and the sound makes me wince just a little, but I manage to let it go pretty quickly.  
As soon as he gets in, I start making myself relax.  
“So…” I sigh, “Where do we get…pizza?”  
"The pizza place. Duh. I already ordered it." He smiles as he starts the car.  
“I didn’t hear your seatbelt.” I remark.  
"Yeah. You didn't." He says, not making any moves to put it on.  
I go to tell him that he’s going to die, but I remind myself of his response to that.   
“Wait. You never wear it? You realize that’s illegal, right?”  
"Good. Maybe I'll go to jail."  
Remind me why I hang out with him…?  
“Jail isn’t fun.”  
"I can hang myself with my shoelaces and then die."  
“I don’t like you saying things like that.”   
"Like what?"  
“About killing yourself. My mom committed suicide when I was little. Please stop saying it.”  
"Oh. Sorry. I...I'll try not to."  
“And put your seatbelt on.” I add.  
I hear a click.  
I think we’re starting to get used to each other.  
…  
“So. Pizza.” I say softly.  
“Yeah, a little less fun now that there’s a death threat on you essentially.”  
“Yeah… Don't worry about that. What’s on this pizza?”  
“Whatever you want. It's completely customizable. And I can't NOT worry about it.”  
“Don’t say whatever you want. I will say Pop-Tarts, and I’m sure that’s not going to happen. And don’t worry. It isn’t even about you, so you have nothing to worry about.”   
“I can’t not worry about you. In fact, that’s 75% the stuff in my brain. Worrying. Not all of it’s aimed at you, but a lot of it is.”  
“What? Why? Why is any worrying aimed at me? And why can’t you just stop worrying?” I question.  
“Because I care about you...?”   
“Why?”  
“Because you’re my friend.”  
“Oh. Right. I forgot.” I shrug.   
“You forgot? Rude.” He scoffs.  
“I forget everything. Always. Don’t take it personally.” I tell him.  
I always forget everything. True fact.  
I’m not lying to him this time.   
“Offended.”  
“Don’t be offended!”  
“Offence is taken.” He laughs.  
“What’s wrong with you?” I mutter.  
I specifically told him multiple times to not take offence to it.   
“What isn’t wrong with me? You know I can’t hide you forever, right?”  
“You don’t need to. As you said, we can’t avoid it forever.”  
“Right. But this whole thing... Bullshit.”  
“You’ve said that before. I don’t know why you keep saying it. What’s it even supposed to mean?”   
He’s said it about a thousand times. Every time I talk about my family, he says that.   
Bullshit. Always.   
“It means it’s bullshit.”  
“That doesn’t make sense. It’s not bullshit because it’s true. It’s how it works, and it always has been and always will be like this. I knew that all of this is wrong but I’ve done it anyway. I knew the consequences. Whatever happens now, happens.”   
“Well, it shouldn’t work that way.”  
“...That isn’t true.”  
“Nope.”  
“You’re not listening to me.”   
“You’re right. I don’t listen when you’re spouting bullshit.”  
“Alright, asshole. Do you want to talk about pizza instead?” I suggest.  
“Not really, no. The thing I wanna know is why Alexa is such a bitch. Why does she hate you so much?”  
“She doesn’t. She’s one of the nicer ones. She’s just really concerned.” I explain.  
“She’s a nicer one? Oof. I can’t imagine your guys’ family reunions then.”  
“Do you want to hear about Thanksgiving four years ago?” I smile at him playfully.  
“Um, hell yes. Sounds chaotic as fuck.”  
“Awesome. I didn’t go, so I couldn’t tell you. It was at my grandparents’ house, and my aunt left me home alone. I tried to cook food but I didn’t know how to. That’s how I burnt my hand on a stove.” I look at my hand for emphasis.  
I wonder if it scarred.   
“That’s alarming.”  
“Why is that alarming? No one did anything that time.”   
“This is why I’m never letting you cook anything ever.” He parks the car. “I’m going to go in and grab it.”  
“That’s not fair. I was a kid and I didn’t know what I was doing. You can’t use that against me.” I complain as he opens his car door.  
“I can use whatever I want against you. I’ll be right back, don’t do anything stupid.” He gets out and shuts the door behind him.  
I realize as soon as he shuts the door, that I probably should have gone with him. I don’t feel safe or comfortable without him around.  
Oh well.  
I’ll just wait.  
Everything is okay.   
It feels like decades before he comes back in. I check my phone, and it’s been about three minutes since he got out of the car.  
“What took so long?” I ask, despite knowing how long it has actually been.  
“It’s not even been five minutes dude, chill.”  
“Whatever. Don’t leave me again.”  
“Ever? What about when I have to poop?”  
“What? I mean don’t leave me out in the car again. Do you realize how easy it is to steal a car? Dumb-ass.”  
“You won’t get stolen. And if you did, they would return you in three minutes because of how annoying you are. Hold the pizza.” He says, handing something out to me.  
“Return me to who? You?” I ask as I take it. It’s hot.  
“Probably.”  
“How would they know how to find you? They don’t know you. And I wouldn’t be able to find you in a crowd.” I persist.  
“You just call me, and I’ll come get you from the kidnappers. Easy as that.”  
“Oh. If you’re so sure they would return me, why haven’t you returned me?”   
“To who? The universe? You’re stuck with me. It’s Damien and Josiah vs. the world now.”  
“I’m ignoring that. You would return me to my house, dummy.”   
“Oh.”  
“So…? What makes you so sure the kidnappers would bring me back to you?”  
“I just know these things. Trust me.”  
“I don’t, but okay. When...are you returning me? Tonight, I mean.” I set the box onto my lap.  
“Whenever you want to be returned…but also before Tuesday night. I’m busy.”  
“Can I stay with you tonight then?”  
“I guess you have to. I haven't had a sleepover since 4th grade.”  
“Not even with Ethan and Hunter?”   
“No. That’s gay.”  
“What does that make this?”  
“...” He doesn’t respond.  
I guess that makes this gay, then. Since he won’t argue otherwise.   
“Okay. I’m going to complain a lot when you have to bring me home. Just tell me to shut up and I’ll stop.” I tell him.  
“Me telling you to do anything has never worked, so why would it now?”  
“Say it aggressively. Like…” I clear my throat dramatically, “Shut up.”  
Damien bursts out laughing. “Oh my God.”  
“What? Why are you laughing?” I lean forward a bit to get some sort of better look at his face. For some reason.  
“Is that your impression of me or of a threatening tone? Either way, it’s hilarious.”  
“That was me being aggressive. That’s how my dad said it. Why is that hilarious? It’s true.”  
“You’re the least threatening person I've ever met. It’s funny to see you try.”  
“I’m very threatening. Do you want to see me actually be threatening for real?”  
“Of course. Go for it.”  
I go to say the most aggressive, threatening thing I can think of. Before I can, it makes me think of my father and I stop, trying to think up something Damien would say instead.  
“...What’s something you say to the kids you beat up?”   
“What?”  
“When you hurt people. What do you say to them? You know, when you’re being aggressive and threatening?”  
“I don’t usually say much. I just let Ethan do the talking and I just...back him up.”  
“Oh. What does he usually say? Say it to me and I’ll copy you.”  
“You asked for this? Or you deserve this? Or you know what you did? That sort of shit. It really depends on the mark to be honest.”  
I guess they’re not different, then.  
“I can’t say those.” I murmur.  
“Call someone a dickhead then.”  
“No. S-Stop it. Forget about t-that.” I pull my sleeves over my hands and press them against the box.  
“Okay… Sorry. You did ask.”  
“I know. I literally asked for it. Just don’t s-say it.”  
“Okay. Sorry.” He apologises again.  
He says that too much. I don’t know what he thinks he has to apologize to me for.  
“I’m really not threatening at all…?” I try to lighten it up a bit.  
“No more than an angry puppy. If anything, it’s just cute.”  
“Angry dogs are threatening… Cute? You’re calling me cute?”  
“No! I meant...that angry puppies are cute!”  
“And I’m an angry puppy. You forgot the comparison you were making.” I point out to him.  
“...” Damien doesn’t respond to that, either.  
He isn’t very good at lying. But what’s worse than that is when he doesn’t say anything.  
“There’s nothing that makes someone look more guilty than silence. You’re making yourself look bad. Now, I-I know you’re hiding something. Seems like you’re hiding the fact that you think I’m cute.” I remark.  
He sighs. “Okay. You’re fucking adoarable. Is that what you wanted?”  
Instantly, my face feels like it’s on fire.  
Dammit.  
I use one of my hands to cover my cheeks and look away from him.  
“You’re adorable.” I counter.  
”Bullshit. You’re more adorable. You have the fluffy hair and the big innocent eyes and the huge sweaters. Adorable.”  
“I am not. You have...something. I don’t know because I can’t see you, but you’re adorable!”  
“Adorable. I’ll spell it. A-D-...uh…” He pauses a moment, “O? Yeah. I think it's an O.”  
“You absolute fucking dumb-ass. Oh my god.”   
“No! I’ll get it! A-D-O-R-A …. Um. B? L-E?! It’s easier when I write it out.”  
I sigh deeply. “Do you need me to help you with spelling, too?”   
“Nah. I have autocorrect.”  
“You can’t use autocorrect while- Nevermind. Stop trying to spell stuff and don’t call me adorable.”   
“Spell stuff. S-T-U-F-F. Stuff.”  
I think I’m going to cry.  
“Stop!”   
“Spell stop. S-T-O-P. Stop.”  
“Oh my God…” I rub my head.  
“God? Can you tell me the language of origin please?”  
“It’s way more complicated than that. The word God comes from so many different languages, including old english, norse, german, and dutch... I can list them all, if you want.” I offer, to get him to shut the hell up.  
“Nope. That’s all the information I need. Spell God. G-O-D. God.”  
“I’ll start crying if you do that again.” I warn.   
He laughs, “Okay. I’ll stop.”  
He pulls up to his house, parking the car.  
“...You called this a sleepover. What are we going to do? Eat, watch TV, and...sleep?” I won’t sleep through the night.  
"I mean, probably. Yeah. Unless you have other ideas."  
“That works.”   
We get out and I immediately hand him the pizza box.  
"My parents...are not home. What a surprise." He murmurs, leading me inside.  
“They never are. Are they really always busy with work?”  
"Yep. I get to see my dad on Tuesday and Thursday nights."  
“Is that why we can’t ever meet after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays? Because your dad is here?”  
"Well, yeah. And he's...teaching me those nights. Like company stuff. Business stuff."  
“Stocks…?” I don’t really know what that means. But that’s what he says they do.  
"Sure."  
I’m almost positive he’s lying, but at this point, I don’t care. If it’s bad enough to make him lie about it, then I don’t want to know.   
“Are we going upstairs?”  
"I don't know. Will you fall and die?"  
“Maybe. There’s no way to be sure.” I shrug.   
"Well...don’t."  
“Okay.”   
He leads me upstairs...kind of. He has me walk in front of him. I don’t know why he does that.  
He’s not going to catch me, or whatever. That’s stupid.  
He sets the pizza box onto the table in front of the couch in his bedroom. I think his bedroom is only slightly smaller than my house…  
“Your parents make a lot of money. Doing stocks.”   
I wonder if he thinks I believe him…?  
"Yeah. My dad owns a few businesses, too. It's not just that. Hence, the…business stuff."  
“Oh… Makes sense,” I stare at him as he sits down, “Do your parents come home at night time?”  
"Yeah. But not until late. And a lot of the weekends, they go on trips out of town."  
“They won’t be mad that I’m here… Right?” I ask hesitantly.  
"By the time they get home, we'll be up here and they'll be in bed."  
“You’re not even going to tell them…?”  
"Why bother?" He sits on the couch and opens the pizza box.  
The smell is intense.  
“Because, if you don’t, then you’re lying to them. Or...just hiding something from them. They’ll find out eventually. I don’t think they would like that you hid something from them.” I insist.  
"I don't care."  
“Oh,” I sit at the opposite side of the couch, “You might as well keep me here forever.”  
"I guess I have no choice but to keep you. They honestly wouldn't know for a few weeks."  
“A person is pretty hard to hide.” I point out.  
"Meh. You’re small." He holds something out to me, "Here."  
“I’m not small.” I argue, watching his hand.  
There’s nothing funnier than making him hold things out.  
"You're very small. Take the pizza."  
“I am not. Is the pizza still hot?” The box was really hot.   
"It's warm. I will eat this in like three seconds if you don't take it."  
“I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t burn.” I take it from him.  
It’s hot, but it doesn’t burn.  
"Your thoughts?" He asks, grabbing some for himself.  
“...It’s really good. I think it’s cool that we found something that you’ll actually eat that I like. Now we can have pizza every time.”  
He laughs. "No way. Pizza is for special occasions only."  
“I think tutoring is a special occasion.” I smile a bit.  
"We're not eating pizza twice a week…or three times a week. This isn't even tutoring anymore."  
“Well, this isn’t. Today is just celebration. With cheese. I have decided I like cheese.”   
"I could live on cheese." He agrees.  
“Sounds good. Then why are you arguing against pizza?”  
"Firstly I'm not arguing against PIZZA. I'm arguing against pizza three times a week."  
“Pizza...five times a week. Just bring it to school.”   
"That's how you die at twenty-five."  
“Fine. Not at school. I would get in trouble anyway. Just...once a week. Once a week, we have pizza.”   
"...No. Every...two weeks."  
“Are you compromising with me? Awesome.”   
"No pizza ever. Throw it out the window."  
...What?  
No…  
I’m so hungry and this is so good. Please.  
I am so, so hungry…   
“I was kidding. We can have pizza whenever you want. It doesn’t matter to me.” I quickly try to explain myself.  
He laughs. "I was joking, too. We can have it sometimes. I'll get it for you whenever you want."  
“Okay. Don’t joke like that. I’m really just happy that you give me anything at all. I don’t care what it is.” I tell him.  
It’s just...better when it’s nuggets...or pizza.  
"Okay. I won't joke like that… What are you going to do tomorrow after school? When you go home?"  
“I don’t know. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble. If I can, I’ll probably be texting you all night.” I sigh.   
"If it gets too bad, just…call me and I can come get you."  
“I will. But it depends on what you consider too bad.”   
"Hurting you. Hurting you is bad. Why the fuck do you stay with her anyway? She seems like an ass."  
“I know she’s going to do that, so that can’t be what makes you want me to call you. And where else am I supposed to go? I’ve lived at that house my whole life. I can’t leave.”   
"I don't know. But she shouldn't. You shouldn't have to deal with that."  
“Why not? You always say stuff like that, but you don’t have any argument to back it up.”  
"Because no one should have to deal with that."  
“Deal with...getting hurt? You realize that you hurt people, right?”   
Hypocrite...  
"That’s not what we're talking about! Just...text me, or call me, or whatever if you need me to come get you, okay?"  
“Okay, but there needs to be a real line. Because I’m not going to make you come get me just because I think she might hurt me. Then I shouldn’t even go home. And I can’t stay here.”   
"Well, you can't stay here. I guess you can just call if you feel like you should."  
“I’ll c-call you when I would die if I didn’t. Is that fair?”  
"That sounds fair. You should just leave and live somewhere else. I don't know where, but somewhere."  
“Yeah, I’ll just get a job, and a car, and a house. Then live on my own. Perfect.” I mutter.  
That’s never going to happen.  
"Maybe someday."  
“No. I can’t go anywhere. I’m not going t-to live alone...until after my aunt d-dies.”  
"Why would you stay with her if you don't have to? She sounds horrible."  
“I can’t...leave. I-I would just get in trouble. And I don’t know how to live on my own. I c-can’t cook, remember?” I remind him.  
"I guess so."  
“It would be easier if you just came with me.”   
"...Lived with you?"  
“N-No, I- Um… I meant, like, when I go home, just come stay. Since I can’t stay here because I would get in trouble and because of your parents. I know it can’t happen, but… It would be safer.”   
"I don’t think your aunt would let me. And I have to be with my dad until 8:00."  
“She wouldn’t care as long as you didn’t talk. But, yeah… I’m just scared.”   
"I wish I could help somehow. All I can do is tell you that, if you need me, I'll come."  
“I always need you…” I curl up, bringing my knees to my chest.   
The whole room smells like pizza. It’s kinda funny.  
"What can I do? To help?"  
“You help when we’re together,” I look over at him and I’m pretty sure he’s staring at me, “I wish we could just hang out more. Being with you...It-It’s the only time I have felt safe in such a long time. When y-you aren’t here, I-I don’t feel safe. I h-hate it. It’s been that way since I can remember. When I was l-little, my dad w-would always get r-really upset. I never felt safe with him.”   
“Where is your dad?” He cuts in.  
I take a deep breath, shivering.   
No one else at school knows about this...  
“H-He’s in jail. The police took him in a-after he locked me out-outside and gave me this scar,” I motion faintly to the back of my neck, “and this one,” the one hidden by my glasses.  
“Can I…?” He asks softly, his hand coming up just a bit.  
I nod.   
He pulls my glasses down to see the scar. He’s probably noticed it by now. Most people assume it’s from someone at school.   
He runs his finger over it lightly, staying silent.   
“I-I had dropped...a glass cup. It shattered. H-He took a shard in his hand- and...and… He b-beat me again, and l-locked-...” I feel myself start violently shaking at the memories.  
“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He murmurs quietly, as if not to scare me.  
As if I’m not already horrified.  
“I just w-want you t-to...to know that I’m so happy...that you let me stay with you. No one has ever cared about me before, a-and no one...lets me...have chicken nuggets.” I stammer.  
"You should be getting that already. Me giving you basic human rights isn't being nice."  
“Y-You think I deserve those things, b-but I know I don’t. And it’s why I don't fight back or even r-run away from anyone. It’s not- I am not worth it, Damien.”   
He seems to panic a bit with my words. I don’t know why I’m telling him this…but I feel like he deserves to know.  
He never tells me anything about his parents. The only things I know are obvious lies.   
I choke out a sob, “I just...want to disappear. I don’t w-want to h-have to deal with any of this anymore… I want to d-die.”   
"Never ever say that. Never. " He says firmly.  
“What?”   
"If you're allowed to be mad at me for joking about it then you’re sure as fuck not allowed to be serious about it. Don't think like that."  
...Fair.   
“I know, but… My...My dad, and my aunt, and e-even- everyone at school… Damien, if y-you w-want me around, then y-you’re the only one who does.” I wish he would realize that he’s being crazy.   
“I don’t care if I’m the only one. I need you. Please stay." He says.  
“Why?”   
Why should I stay? It’s making everything so much harder on everyone.  
"Because I…tutoring." He finishes lamely.   
I manage a laugh, “Damien…”  
"Fine. And I care about you. We're friends… Remember? That's what friends do. Care about each other."  
“Don’t worry. I… I’m not going to d-do anything to m-myself. I don’t have to.”   
"Yeah. Your aunt does plenty." He says, sounding angry.  
“Exactly. That’s why… I n-need her. S-She’s really all I have, and at this point, I’m so used t-to all of this. I don’t know what I-I would do if she s-stopped.”   
"You have me." He says quietly.  
“I-I know…” I mumble, “But I don’t think y-you would do what she does. It’s...not the s-same.”  
"I wouldn't hurt you. And you shouldn't be used to it."  
“I am, though. Whether I-I should be or not. I’m s-so used to it, and being around you m-makes things b-better, but then, I just f-feel guilty. Things aren’t m-meant to be better for m-me. ”  
"Well," He says, handing me another slice of pizza, "You better get used to it."  
“You… You’re never going to stop being nice to me, right?”   
"Why would I? I like being nice to you. It wouldn’t benefit me to be mean to you."  
Something makes me want to move closer to him... But I don’t. I know he says he won’t do anything, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a human being who lies.  
“Yeah… I guess so.”   
The room goes silent for a minute or two.   
He starts eating a new piece of pizza, still looking at me.   
I take a bite of my piece and curl up a bit tighter.   
“...Do y-you...want to watch TV now?” I suggest.  
"Sure. What do you want to watch?" He says, grabbing the remote from off the table.  
I lean back against the couch, watching his hand intently.  
I know he isn’t going to do anything…  
“Just anything. I just need something to listen to.”   
It’s always so quiet at home.  
He turns on a movie made for kids and sits back, leaning his head back and probably not watching the TV.  
I don’t know why he doesn’t just play something he likes.

end


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15-

Damien's P.O.V.

-Tuesday September 14th-

Josiah slept in the guest room across from mine.

I don't think anyone's ever actually stayed there before. 

Last night was...really emotional.

I wish he didn't have to go home. He looked so scared.

When my alarm goes off in the morning for school, I groan and turn it off, getting up and stretching.

I doubt Josiah is up yet…

I get out of bed, not bothering to change out of my pajama pants yet, and I knock hesitantly on his door.

He doesn't answer.

I open it a little and say, "Josiah? Are you up yet?"

“No.”

I peek in and he's still in bed.

"Well, get up. I'm making pancakes."

Pierre doesn’t come in till 11:00 anyway.

“You’re making pancakes?” He sits upright slowly.

"Yuh. Come help."

“You’re not going to let me _help_.” He chuckles softly. 

"No, but cooking alone is boring." I lean against the door frame and stare at him.

His hair is all over the place.

He rubs his eyes and shoots a sleepy smile in my direction and my heart melts a little bit.

"...Come on, loser." I say, heading out the door.

He gets up and follows me. “Pancakes are easy to make. I can help.” 

"You can _watch_." I say, making sure to go down the stairs first.

“That’s dumb. I can’t see. What’s the point in **_watching_ **?”

"Cause I said so. Do you have to question everything?"

I lead him into the kitchen and get the ingredients out.

"Would it be dumber to wear an apron and no shirt or just nothing at all?" I laugh, realizing I didn't change.

“Why would you wear an apron with no shirt? Aprons are- Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” He questions.

I shrug then remember he can't see. "I don't sleep in them and I didn't change yet."

“Go put clothes on.”

"I'm not _naked_."

“I don’t care. Put a shirt on. I’m uncomfortable.”

"Why?" I ask, my turn to question him. You can't **see** _._ "

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t like **_knowing_ **.” 

I smile, "What if I put an apron on?”

“Please don’t fight with me on this. I’m serious.”

"Whatever." I say, "Stay here."

I run upstairs and grab a random shirt off my floor. It's a workout tank top, but whatever.

I run back down again, taking the stairs way faster than safe, and I slide into the kitchen in my socks, making him jump.

“What the hell?”

"What? First you complain about my fashion choices, then you complain about how fast I zoom. Never tell a man how to zoom."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about anymore. **Speak English**.”

" **_Zoom_ **." I elaborate.

“...Go put the apron on and make pancakes.”

"I don't want the apron now." I say, grabbing the ingredients and beginning to mix up pancakes. It’s still dark out. We have time.

“You have to wear the apron. You have a shirt now. Don’t get it dirty.” He comes up next to me and puts his hand on my back.

"Nah." I say, surprisingly not bothered by how close he is. 

I look down at him.

He looks so sleepy. As he rubs his eyes again I ask, "Did you sleep at all?" 

“No. Is this cotton?”

"What?"

“Is your shirt made of cotton? Or…?”

"I don't know? No?"

“Oh. I like the material.” He sighs.

"I dunno, man." I break an egg into the bowl and start mixing it, getting flower on my shirt.

Oh well.

He stays standing beside me the whole time and we really don't say much, but I don't mind. It's nice just having someone else around.

"I'm moving to the stove." I say to him after I mix up the batter.

“Have fun.” 

"Come with me." I whine.

He blinks up at me for a moment before responding, "Why?”

"’Cause you're _supervising_. Without you, this entire operation would be in shambles. Duh."

“You’re speaking nonsense again.”

"I haven't had my coffee yet."

“Go have your coffee. Then we can talk.”

"It's more fun confusing you." I laugh, but leave his side to go start my coffee.

“Is that why you say weird things all the time?” He stays standing there, but watches me intently.

"Sometimes. Normally, it's just the first thing that pops into my head."

I grab the mix beside him and put a pan on the stovetop.

"Come supervise or the pancakes will be ruined."

I just want him to stand close to me again… 

“Okay.” He moves closer and turns his eyes to the pancake mix. 

"Don't burn yourself. The stove is right in front of us." I say, spraying the pan and pouring a pancake out.

“Really? I could have sworn that was a washing machine.”

I want to smash my head into the counter. But instead, I retort, "Yeah."

Not my best work. I can't think before my coffee.

Josiah bursts out laughing. “ _Yeah_?” He repeats, mimicking my tone. 

"Yeah." I confirm, chuckling a bit.

“Are you okay?” He asks, still laughing at me.

"I'm still asleep. I could sleep for the rest of my life."

“Should you be _operating_ this **_washing machine_ ** if you’re so tired?” 

I laugh, "I don't know. Could you imagine putting pancake mix into a washing machine?"

“I have a feeling you have never done laundry before. It would probably **spin**.”

"That sounds amazing. How mad would Pierre be if I filled the washing machine with pancake mix?”

“Apparently he would just sulk. You said he doesn’t get mad.”

"True. It wouldn't be as fun. But if you put the powered mix in and then turned it on, the water would make it pancake mix, right? So, it’s not that interesting, but _theoretically_ , could you get a dryer that heats high enough to cook a pancake? That’s what I want to know."

“You’re a dumb-ass.”

"You didn't answer my question." I flip the pancake in from of us.

“I didn’t listen to what you said. I just assumed it was dumb.”

"Wow. Glad I talk then." 

I put the pancake on a plate and get syrup for him.

I sit on the kitchen island and pull a stool out for him. "There's yours."

I turn back to the stove and start another one.

“Thanks… What time is it?”

"Um. 6:30-ish"

“When do we need to leave for school?”

"Like 7:45."

“Did you plan for pancakes to take an hour…?”

"I didn't know." I admit. "They're going faster than I expected. Do you like yours?"

“Yeah. Pancakes are really good.”

"I was assuming you liked them. They're my second favorite food."

“ _Second_?” 

"Yep." I say, making the remaining pancakes and splitting then between us. I sit the extra few on his plate with his other one and then grab my coffee, drinking it first then starting on my pancakes.

“What does coffee taste like?”

I hold the cup out to him. "I bet you wont like it."

“You act like you know me so well.” He takes the cup from me slowly.

"More than you would think."

He takes a sip and makes a face. “Why do you drink this?!”

"It tastes good,” I say, taking it back from him, "And the caffeine wakes me up in the morning."

“It tastes like dirt.”

"I told you you wouldn't like it. I bet you would like one of those fancy Starbucks ones with all the whipped cream and stuff."

“I don’t know what that is. Why didn’t you say _you won’t like this because it tastes like dirt_?” 

"You would have tasted it anyway! And it doesn't _taste like dirt._ "

“I would have tasted it, but I would have known to expect **_dirt_ **.” 

I sigh and finish my pancakes.

As I wait for him to finish, I pack him a lunch, googling facts for him to put on each thing.

Once he is done, I sit the lunch on the counter and say, "As fun as this was, we have to get ready to go."

I look him over and he still looks very tired.

I wonder if he just **_always_** _looks tired_ …?

“Okay. I don’t have anything to _get ready_.”

"I have stuff. C'mon." I put our plates in the sink and clean up a little before leading him back up into my room.

I walk into the bathroom and hand him a new toothbrush out from under my sink.

"Here. It’s a toothbrush, before you can ask."

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

"Liar." I say, putting toothpaste on his then mine and then wetting them.

I hand it back to him.

"I always say _here_ and then you always say _what is this_ and then I have to explain either way."

“That’s because when you hand me things, I usually don’t know what the hell they are.”

"That's why I announced it this time." I say, brushing my teeth.

He does, too, and I glance over at him.

This is so…domestic.

I wonder what it would be like waking up next to him…

Instead of blocking it out, I let my mind wander to last night.

When he said something along the lines of how I _should just live with him…_

That’s a fun thought.

To be honest, I don’t think I would mind it all that much.

When we're done, I say, "I don't know what to do about your clothes…?"

He never gave my shirt back the last time, so it's a risk…

“I can wear this.”

Darn.

I remember how cute he looked in my giant shirt last time…

Oh well. It was too good to be true, I guess.

I shrug and say, "Alright. I'm going to change really quick then we can head out.

I quickly put my black jeans on and a _Falling In Reverse_ shirt on. I tie my motorcycle boots on and grab my jacket, before getting our backpacks.

I give him his and ask, "Will you be okay? Once I take you home?"

“Probably not.”

“I wish I could just let you stay here. But if my parents found out…"

If they knew I had a boy here in the first place…

They don't even let Hunter and Ethan stay the night, let alone Josiah.

“I understand. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” He says.

"Right. Well, just make sure to call me. If anything happens." I say again.

I'm so worried, but I can't change the fact that he has to go home.

“I got it. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

"I don't want to find out something happened to you and I could have fixed it and I didn’t know because you didn't tell me."

“By the time you would get there anyway…”

"Don’t. Let me pretend I can help somehow."

I hate not being able to do anything about this.

“I know. It’ll be okay.” 

I lead him out to the car, grabbing his lunch off the counter and giving it to him before going outside. As soon as we sit in the car, he looks at the bag.

“Dinosaurs…” He mumbles.

"I drew one on the front. It’s not very good." I say, starting the car.

He buckles up and says, “Can I look now or do I have to wait for lunch?”

"You have to wait. It's the law."

“Okay. Did you buckle up? **_It’s the law_ **.”

"I did not." I say, backing out of the garage.

I don’t think my parents even came home last night.

“ **Damien…** ” 

" **Josiah…** " I mock in a higher pitched voice.

“Stop it.”

" _Stop it_." I smile over at him.

He looks frustrated and I laugh.

“Why are you being mean?”

"What? I'm not _being_ **_mean_ **…” I say, surprised, "I was just joking."

“Learn to recognize a serious situation. It’s not joking time anymore."

"Don't tell me what to do," I warn him, "You can't just boss me around all the time."

“I can’t be safe if you’re not. Start taking your life seriously.” 

"So that's what I am to you? A _safe space?_ That's it?"

“That’s why you’re my friend. Yeah.” 

"Right. Okay. Well you can find someone else to use, then." I park the car and don't wait for him to get out. I slam the door behind me and walk into school.

…

As soon as I find Hunter and Ethan, they look pissed.

"What now?" I grumble to them.

"Where were you last night?!" Ethan asks.

Last night…?

Oh. Shit.

"Oh my God, guys. I’m so sorry. We were supposed to go over to... _someone’s_ house."

Some stupid party with hookups and beer, and nothing else.

Just the same shit we've been doing since freshman year.

"It was Jessica's house. Why the hell did you stand us up?" Hunter asks, "Where were you?"

I think fast. "My dad...got off early. Sorry. You know how family time is. They're really set on it."

Hunter nods. "I guess. You could have texted us."

Ethan eyes me suspiciously. “Are you serious? You’re a bad liar, Cohen.”

"What the fuck, Ethan? Why the hell would I lie to you? You guys are my _friends_." 

"Fine. But don't make a habit of blowing us off, or there will be consequences."

 **_Consequences_ **?

He wouldn't dare.

"Whatever, Ethan. I'm going to class. I'll see you guys at lunch."

I blow them off and head toward my first period.

Why did I think someone like him and someone like me could be friends? 

Like he said, I'm a bully.

I hurt people like him.

But why does it feel like I’m the one who just got hurt?

I thought maybe…

Maybe things could work out for me. Just this once.

It’s like Parker all over again...except… 

It’s different.

I shake the thought away and someone slams into me.

I stop and glare down at the random freshman boy that bumped into me, his binder falling to the floor and his homework flying all over.

He stands up and recognizes me, with a look of fear on his face.

"Damien- I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention and…"

I grab him by the shirt collar and shove him against a locker.

Maybe my head will stop pounding if I beat this kid up.

Maybe it will feel like I’m in control again.

Because with Josiah, there never was any control.

Not once.

I hold him there and stare into his tear filled eyes,

"Please, it was an accident, I…"

All I can think about is Josiah saying I was _mean_.

 _How_ **_mean_ ** _I am..._

_How horrible I am..._

As if he isn’t saying what I already know.

But me being nice to this one kid won't change anything.

I won't change.

And some stupid nerd making me feel like I can…

Is a waste of my time.

…

I look for Josiah at lunch.

And I see him sitting at his usual table, looking at the lunch I made him.

He then pulls his phone out and I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

**_Josiah_** : 🦖🦕

I'm mad at you. Quit bothering me.

**_Josiah_** : Why? What’s wrong?

What's wrong?!?!

I glare down at my phone. 

I'm not your friend that's what's wrong. I should have known it wouldn't work out. We're too different.

**_Josiah_** : Are we not friends anymore??

That's what you said wasn't it? Or that we weren't friends in the first place. You only like me because I'm safe.

**_Josiah_** : That’s meant to be a good thing. Why did you want to be friends with me?

Because I like you? You're funny and really smart for starters…..

I stop, and as an afterthought I send,

and tutoring.

**_Josiah_** : I like you too. Because you act dumb and do cute things like high fives. 

**_Josiah_** : But of course I like being safe with you and value that a lot

**_Josiah_** : Is that bad?

Shit. I played this wrong.

But how do I know that he's telling the truth?

Does it matter if he is? I feel so…comfortable around him.

In his own way, he kinda makes me feel safe, too.

Okay. I'm sorry for being so dumb about all this. I over-reacted. Can we still be friends?

**_Josiah_** : 🦖 Yeah 🦕

Before I can think anything of it, I respond back quickly,

💙💙💙

Should I have sent that?

Oh well. It's already sent.

I slip my phone in my pocket and I don't look at it for a while, because Hunter and Ethan sit down and I end up joking around with them. But before I leave for my next class, I look at it again.

**_Josiah_** : 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

I smile and look around the lunchroom, but he's already gone.

…

The rest of the day drags on slowly, and even during training, I'm really distracted.

All I can think about is how worried I am about Josiah…

And how my brain thinks it’s funny to tell me we should be more than friends.

My dad must notice, cause as we're about half way through working on the punching bag, my dad stops me and says, "What are you thinking about?"

"What?" I ask him, "What do you mean what am I thinking about? I’m thinking about how I'm going to beat you in the next fight." I smile at him.

"Bullshit,” He smiles, "You won't beat me AND you're lying. You’re really not very good at lying, are you?"

I sigh. "No. I just...don't know how to explain it." Is all I say.

He smiles. "It's a girl, isn't it? I know that look. Nothing is more complicated than a girl."

I stare at the floor. "Right. Um. It's a girl. I need to just focus. This whole thing is stupid."

He leans against the bag, not ready to give this up.

"What about it is so worrying? This girl?"

Shit.

He's not going to let this go.

"She's complicated. I don't think she likes me like that. She has a...shitty background, and I just want to help her out. But as...more than a friend."

Is that what I want?

I don't even know what I want, but getting advice can't hurt anything.

He crosses his arms. "Right. Well. Have you tried talking to her about it? The worst thing that can happen is she says _no_ and then you're still friends and you move on."

I sigh. "No. Dad, you don't get it. I want this so much… I don't know if I could manage staying friends."

Not only am I admitting it to him, I'm admitting it to myself.

"I guess you have to decide if it's worth risking your friendship over."

"I...I think it might be."

He smiles, "Then when we're done here, go talk to her."

"It will be like 9:00 or 10:00 when we're done." I roll my eyes. "That's really late."

He laughs, "Make it like that one movie you made me take you to, where the guy has the radio and he stands outside the girl’s window…"

I laugh. "That's a horrible idea. Maybe I'll just call her."

 **Him**.

But I can't imagine if he knew that.

He smiles. "That might work, too. Think you can focus on what we're working on now?"

I nod my head and push it out of my head for now. 

I don’t get a lot of time with my dad. I need to get the most out of this as I can.

…

After our training session, I go upstairs and before I get in the shower, I check my phone.

Five missed calls from Josiah Walker.

Shit. 

I...

I run a hand through my hair and call him back quickly.

He doesn't answer.

I send him a text. 

I'm so sorry I missed your calls. Are you okay?

After a few minutes, nothing.

I begin to panic.

Why the fuck did I leave my phone upstairs?!

I start to pace my room as I call him again.

He doesn't pick up.

Should I just...go to his house?

I don't want to get him in any more trouble.

A knock on the door startles me so much, I drop my phone on the floor.

I pick it up and go to my door.

"I'm heading out for the night, Damien. I packed Josiah’s lunch for you today… Are you alright?" **_Pierre_ **.

I shake my head. "No. I’m really worried about Josiah, he tried to call me a bunch of times and I was training with Dad, and I didn't hear, and I…"

He stops me, "Damien. Slow down. I'm sure he's okay…"

"No! You don't get it! I know he's hurt or something and I wasn't there for him and now…" I run a hand through my hair again, "What do I do?"

"You...really care about him, don't you?"

"Of course I do! He's my _friend_."

"Right. I wouldn't go over there tonight. I'm sure he'll be at school tomorrow. And all this worrying is over nothing, alright?"

I nod, not convinced.

"Okay. I'm going to head home for the night. I'll see you tomorrow." He hugs me goodbye and says, "Oh. His lunch is in the fridge. Don't forget to put little notes in it or whatever you do."

I feel my face flush and he laughs.

After he leaves, I decide he's right. Worrying won't solve anything tonight.

I contemplate getting something to drink, but if Josiah needs me and I'm drunk…

I take my shower first and then work on some homework. 

But I can't concentrate on it.

All I can do is think about him.

I need to relieve some stress.

I grab my guitar from beside my bed. It's been a while.

I've been so busy with Dad and my friends that I haven't had a lot of free time.

I sit down and play slowly, hoping he gets back with me soon.

I finally end up passing out around 3:00, and there is still nothing from Josiah.

...

As soon as I wake up to my alarm, I shut it off and check for a text.

Or a call.

Anything.

I just need to know if he’s okay.

Do you need a ride this morning?

I send it. Along with ten heart emojis.

Those make him smile.

He doesn't respond by the time I leave the house, his lunch in hand.

I hope he comes to school today.

…

He doesn't come to school either.

As soon as I don't see him at lunch, I panic.

I didn't realize I could panic so much over less than twenty-four hours.

What if he's... **_dead_ **?!

No. That’s dumb.

But from what I've heard about his aunt...is it really?

If only I had picked up when he called me.

I'm really quiet all day and Hunter and Ethan seem a bit put off by it, but don't bother asking why.

They just go on talking about whatever dumb shit they think is important.

I text him quite a few times over the day, even leaving my last class early and trying to call him from the bathroom.

Still **_nothing_ **.

As I'm leaving for the day, I see Alexa and the other one walking out of the school.

"Alexa! Wait up!" I say, running up to them.

“What do you need?” She crosses her arms.

I stop and ask, "Where's Josiah? He's not answering any of my texts… Is he okay?"

As if I can trust her.

“I don’t know. We left as soon as Aunt Dahlia started flipping out.” She shrugs.

" _Flipping out_?" I ask hesitantly, hoping its not as bad as I know it is.

“Yeah. She was pissed that he has been sneaking around and breaking rules. I warned you guys, though. You should have known.” 

I glare down at her. "Whatever. Thanks for nothing." I say, leaving her and going out to my car.

There has to be something I can do…

I drive home, and decide one or two drinks won’t hurt anything…

Soon enough, I’m a whole bottle in and laying on my bed, trying really hard not to cry.

I hope he's okay.

I don't know what I would do if he wasn't…

End.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16-

Josiah's P.O.V.

-Thursday, September 16th-

I tried my hardest to get my phone back this morning to ask Damien to pick me up so I could explain everything, but every time I addressed it, I got an immediate _no_. 

So I left on my own. Just like the old times.

As soon as I get to school, a voice stops me.

"Walker. Hold up!"

It’s Damien.

What the hell does he still call me that for?

“Can’t talk at school.” I remind him.

"I don't care. Why the fuck didn't you answer any of my texts? Are you okay?!"

I rub my aching shoulder and try not to think about what happened.

“My aunt took my phone. She said I can have it back this weekend, but it’s my punishment for talking to you. Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

"I'm sorry. I was with my dad and...we got caught up. I'm really sorry." 

“It’s alright… I did my job and called you when I needed you. It’s just weird that you told me to do that when you knew you would be busy. I’m not mad. Just...confused.”

"I know. I didn’t take my phone downstairs and then I got distracted and...I’m so fucking sorry. I feel horrible about it. You'll get your phone back this weekend? That’s bullshit."

“It seems fair to me. We’re not supposed to just text anymore, so… I think we should only talk to each other for business reasons. Tutoring.” 

"Really?" He sounds...upset.

“Yeah. Just the tutoring stuff...and I don’t think it’s a good idea to give me lunches, or to eat over at your house again.” I tell him.

"No. That's not happening. I will bring you and give you lunch everyday and you'll just have to throw it away. I don't care. But I'm bringing it."

“That’s dumb. If Alexa sees you, then… Her and Avery would say something. It’s not safe.”

"Then eat it. I don’t care. Don't get caught."

“I tried that. It just ended up hurting a lot.”

"I'm sorry. I just…just take them and throw them away for all I care. I just want to know I did everything I could." He says hopelessly.

“Damien…” I sigh, “You have done everything you could do. If there was a way to be _sneakier_ , then it would be okay, but I don’t think…”

"Okay. Sorry. Then can’t you just eat at my house? No one can see you there. I'm just...I really care about you and don't want you to get hurt…"

“I could. I would feel really guilty, though. Then I would have to handle punishments myself, and I don’t like doing that.”

"Okay. Fine. Do you even want to do tutoring then? Or will that be _too much to handle_."

“I want to be with you. If tutoring works as an excuse, then that’s what we’re going to do. I can’t lie about it though. We actually have to be working.” I say.

"Okay, I guess. I don't like this at all and I'll really miss you…but, _okay_. If it's what you want."

“It’s not what I want. It’s just hard to pick between seeing you but getting hurt and not seeing you as much but being safe. We can do whatever you think we should do, but I...really just don’t know.”

He sighs. "I...don’t want to lose you. But, if it keeps you safe, then, I guess it's what we have to do. I have to go. I'll...see you around, Walker." He says before leaving.

I run my fingers into my hair and pull a bit. 

I feel bad...but I did tell him that he could do whatever he thinks is best. Whatever the best situation is according to him, I would go along with it. 

We can still... **_hang out_ **…on Wednesdays and Fridays. 

It just won’t be the same.

…

-Friday, September 17th-

After the last class of the day ends, I really wonder if Damien is up for the tutoring thing or not. He seemed pretty mad at me yesterday. 

I decide to text him and ask. My aunt gave my phone back this morning because I promised to let her go through it every evening. 

I can’t believe she never questioned how I got the phone in the first place. Maybe she just assumed.

So, as long as I make sure every text is about business, everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay… For sure. 

I’ll be more careful.

Hey. Do you want to study today or not…? I understand if not. I know you’re probably really upset.

**_Damien_** : I'm not upset. I'm down if your down. I miss you.

Okay. I need to be home by 10:00. But I’m sure that won’t be an issue.

We don’t usually go that long...but I just need to make sure.

**_Damien_** : Sounds good. Meet me in the normal place?

Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.

I just need to make sure I don’t enjoy any of it. Okay…

That will definitely be...easy…

Just the idea of talking to him again makes me happier, though.

Damn it.

That lasted long. I need a plan B. 

I go meet him outside of the school, after just about everyone else has left. 

As far as I know, everyone is gone. Probably.

“Hey.” I murmur.

"Hey! It's...good to see you."

I make a conscious decision to not look at him. 

“Yeah…”

**_I missed you._ **

This is hard. 

“Alright,” I try to add some bit of confidence to my voice, “Let’s go.”

"I have my bike today… I wasn't sure if we were actually doing this, and I'll make sure to have the car next time." He explains.

“Don’t worry about it. The rules changed. I’m not supposed to be comfortable.” I stop him.

That should make it easier to hate all of this.

"I-I’ll bring the car next time.” He repeats.

I make myself silent and just go with it. If it’s what he wants to do…

I watch him get onto his motorcycle and I cannot even begin to express how much I want to complain.

I say nothing, just getting onto the motorcycle, too, wrapping my arms around his waist.

He shouldn’t make me feel safe. But he does.

“Damien-” His name slips out of me as he goes to start the bike.

He pauses, "Yeah?"

“We...need to talk. After we’re done studying. Just for a little bit.” I tell him.

"Okay. Sounds good." He says, starting toward his house.

I lean my head against his back and just shut my eyes.

…

“You’ve gotten really good at the math stuff. I’m surprised.” I remark, after checking his answers.

"I have a good tutor." He laughs.

I smile for a second before quickly getting rid of it.

“Yeah. Maybe.” I sigh.

I set the paper down. Out of ten problems that I let him do all on his own, he only got two wrong. And they were the two harder ones. 

He’s smarter than he thinks he is.

“I think you’re almost at the point where you don’t need math tutoring.” I point out to him.

"No. I don't think that's right. I'm really bad at math."

“You’re better at math than you are at chemistry.” 

"I guess. But that's not hard. I suck so hard at chemistry."

“I’m just saying. I think it might be smarter for us to dedicate more time to science and spend less time on math. Or… I don’t know. Maybe cut math entirely and put a lot more time into science.” I suggest.

"You’re the tutor… But maybe we try lessening it and if it seems pointless later, we can always cut it."

“Sounds good,” I say, pulling my sleeves over my hands, “I guess we’re done with this for the day. I just need to talk to you about a few things. Let’s pretend these are business things.”

"It doesn't have to be all _business_."

“Yes, it does. So, basically… I want you to start teaching me some things. I guess this is kinda business, so… Yeah. Anyway. I was thinking, and I really want to be able to move out after graduating. But I don’t know what I need for that.” 

"Oh. Yeah. I could start showing you some things. What kinda stuff were you thinking?"

“I know you said _no cooking_ , but if we could work on it just a little, that would be great. And...other stuff adults do. Like driving. And...taxes.” I doubt he does taxes. But those are necessary.

It’s a good skill to have.

"We can work on those things…but I'm going to be honest with you, Josiah, I really don't think you'll be able to drive."

“Could we try? I don’t think it’ll be safe to walk around here… It’s not the best city.” 

"If you would just let me drive you…" He murmurs, then sighs, "But yeah. We can try."

“Good. Even if you drove me around now, it can’t last forever. Once you graduate, we’re never going to see each other again.”

"We...won't?" 

“Why would we? Even when we had this _friend_ thing… People don’t stay friends after school, Damien. **_Friends_ ** don’t last.” 

"It could have lasted if you let it."

“I told you to do what you thought was best. As I said, even if we were _friends_ right now, we wouldn’t be this time next year.”

"You don't know that. And I'm only doing what I _think_ you want! How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do?! This is an impossible situation, and all I want is to see you, because I've never been as comfortable as when I'm with _you_! But I don't want you to get hurt because the idea of that... _kills_ me. So I **don't** **_know_** , Josiah!" He sighs. "I need a drink." He mutters under his breath.

I wonder if he knows that drinking kills people. 

If he does, he probably drinks **a lot**. 

“Damien…” I look over at him, “Calm down. I want to spend every day with you. But even if I could, you couldn’t. So don’t do what I want. Do what you want.”

"I want to not only talk _business_ at tutoring. And I want to make you lunches and I want to be friends. For a really long time. I want things to go back to the way they _were_."

“We can...kind of do that. Only here. Not in front of anyone else.” I think I sound like him now.

"Okay. I'm sorry for getting all worked up. I'm just...having a hard time right now. Sorry."

“It’s alright. I understand. Let’s just...talk about _not business_ stuff for a moment. I don’t know if you would consider this business or not, but… What are you planning to do after graduating? Are you going to move out? And you’re going to college, right?”

"I have no idea."

“What are the odds that you’ll move out of this state?” I ask.

"It depends on if I _have_ to move out of the state or not.”

“Do you **want** to?”

"No. I like this city. It's more my home than anywhere else I've ever lived. I won't leave unless I have to."

“Alright… If I can move out, I’m going really far away.” I tell him.

"How far away? Where do you want to go?"

“I don’t know. Really, really far away. Alaska.” 

"...I'll come visit. We can go fishing and get eaten by a bear."

Damn.

“You won’t come visit. It’s too far away.”

"Well, I guess I'm moving to Alaska!” He laughs, "I'll become a fisherman and then get eaten by a bear. Or maybe I'll tame the bear and ride it "

This isn’t a joke. But I told him that this wasn’t business, so I can’t say that. 

“Okay. I’ll move to Mexico. You wouldn’t survive there, with how your Spanish is.” 

"...I guess I'll marry a bi-lingual lady and she can translate and then I'll be a taco farmer and then you can have free tacos for life. And I'll visit everyday."

“Why are you following me? I’m trying to prove a point here.”

"Because. I don't like your point. You make me... **_happy_ ** . And I haven't felt _happy_ in a long fucking time. So I think I'll just be a fisherman, or a taco farmer, or _whatever_."

“I… Damien, you have other friends. You can’t be with them if you’re with me. They wouldn’t let that happen. They wouldn’t visit, or follow you.”

"I can make it work...somehow."

“You’re crazy. What if I just kept running away from you?” I chuckle.

"Guess I'll keep following."

Just like that, it isn’t funny anymore.

I press my palm against my chest.

“Ow…” I wince.

"What? Are you okay?" He sounds worried.

“You make me really happy. Then I just think about the rules and what my aunt did and…” I curl my fingers into my sweater, “It hurts my heart.”

"I'm sorry. I wish I could fix _everything_."

“I know. I just… I haven’t been this scared in a long time. Now I feel like I have something to lose. I don’t like that feeling.”

"You won't lose me until you want to."

“She’ll find out again…” I mumble.

Then she’ll hurt me again. But that isn’t what’s scary, of course. I’m used to getting hurt. I’m not used to having something I care about then getting it taken away.

 **_That’s scary_ ** _._

"I'm really sorry. I've been trying to come up with some way I can fix this, but right now, I can't. And I really wish I could, but I'll keep trying to figure this out."

“I wish I could be touched. I want a hug.” I mutter, rubbing my eyes underneath my glasses.

"If you let me, I would. In a heartbeat." He says softly.

I want to...

"What's, like...a step or two down from hugging?" I force a slight laugh. 

I can't do hugs. 

I would suffocate and die.

"Holding Hands?" He suggests quietly. 

"...” I reach out a hand to him. "Please." 

He takes my hand hesitantly. "If it's too much, I'll let go."

I squeeze his hand a bit. 

This is weird. 

It feels good. It's like a reassurance that he's close. That's not usually a good thing, but it feels like one right now. 

"You're a lot different than everyone else." I inform him.

“How so?" 

"You know _how so._ It's because you're nice." 

"I'm not _nice_." He sounds guilty.

“You really are." 

"I try to be nice to you, but I could be nicer. I hurt people. And I...do other stuff. " 

"What _other stuff_?" 

"Illegal stuff." Is all he says.

“I know you drink. I don't like it, but I wouldn't say it makes you _not nice_." 

"It still makes me a bad person...doing Illegal stuff.”

"I didn't say you weren't a bad person. I said you were nice. You're _naturally_ nice." 

Even if he is a bully, he would stop if he thought he could.

I... **think** he would. 

"Being bad makes me not nice." 

"It's not the same." I refuse. 

"I hope it isn't." He gently runs his thumb over the back of my hand. 

" _I_ **_know_ ** _it isn't_..." I stare down at our hands, "Why does this fix everything?" 

It feels like it's fixing everything... 

Why do I feel safe right now? 

**_How_ ** do I feel safe after what happened on Tuesday and Wednesday? 

"I don't know. But it feels like it is. I haven't felt this calm in years." 

“I feel like I'm going to cry." I use my free hand to continue rubbing my eyes. 

"Is it making you _uncomfortable_? We can stop..." He starts taking his fingers slowly out of mine. 

"No. Please don't stop." I hold on tighter, so fucking desperate.

"Okay. Sorry." 

I hold onto him for another minute. Until all I can hear is my aunt screaming at me for disobeying her, and I feel her hitting me. 

I pull away quickly and start messing with the ends of my sleeves. 

"...Don't send nice texts anymore." I tell him. 

No more hearts... No more _I miss you_ s... "Why not? I like sending nice texts. It's easier then saying nice things." 

“She only gave me the phone back with the rule that she can take it and read the texts or whatever. Just be mean in texts now." 

"You know you can delete texts, right?" He laughs. 

I don't know why he is laughing. Doesn’t he realize how scared I am?

"No... Can you really?" 

“Sure. I can show you, if you want." 

"Yeah, but... What if I missed one? Or if she realizes there's chunks of conversation missing?" I point out. 

I take my phone out and hand it to him. 

"I'll send them as separate texts. That way nothing is missing. Scoot closer so you can see it better." He says, holding my phone and opening the texting app. 

I move over to him and lean against him to somewhat see my phone screen. 

"I'll still need you to send mean texts. So she sees those ones and can be reassured that you're not nice to me." 

"Only if I can apologize in the ones after and you delete them." He says as he shows me the button to delete certain messages.

“You don't have to. I would know why you were saying mean things." I say, gently taking my phone and deleting a message. 

Oh. 

“I want to." 

"Okay..." I look at him, "But only at school. If I'm at home, do not send nice things." 

If she had my phone and he sent anything that isn't mean... She would be pissed. 

“Okay. As long as we can still be friends, I don't care."

“Yeah... I think I have to go home now. Since we're done." I say. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I feel guilty for being here for too long. I'm sorry. I can't get what she said to me out of my head..." I shift uncomfortably. 

She often tells me that I don't deserve good things, but... I never really knew what a good thing was. 

Everything hurt differently now that I know what _good_ is like. 

I nod, "Yeah." 

We both get up. 

It's so weird to have not eaten here. It's become a habit of sorts... A really bad habit. 

"...Tutors usually get paid. It's earned." I mumble. 

It's normal. It's how it works for everyone. 

“Oh! I can pay you, if you want me to." 

"No. I just realized I should have said that to my aunt." 

If I earned it... How could I not deserve it? That contradicts itself. 

"Why?" 

“Maybe she'd change her mind." 

"About what? Us being friends or me feeding you? Or both?”

"About all of it. If it's **_payment_ **... Maybe I should say something. If she listens, then... We won't have to hide things." I start planning. 

I should make a list of reasons she's technically wrong then present it to her. 

“You could try. But if she said _no_ and found out we did it anyway, wouldn’t she be pissed?" 

If anything, she would be pissed at me for trying to talk. Or arguing with her. 

"She needs to know all the facts before making a decision like this." I state. 

I'll try to...convince her. 

If it doesn't work, we'll just keep hiding. Until she finds out and kills me. 

“Okay. She's your aunt. You know her better than I do… Do you want something to eat before you go, then?" He asks.

"No. Not until she says it's okay." 

The _being friends_ thing is Damien's choice. He can't choose for me to eat. 

He doesn't control that. She does. 

"Alright. I figured I'd offer." 

"Should I feel guilty for the hand thing?" I ask, holding my hand out for him to take. 

That's something I feel like he should control... 

"No. It's _studying_." He says, taking my hand again. 

I feel guilty. 

"Okay." 

End


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17-

Damien’s P.O.V

-Thursday, September 16th-

"I...don’t want to lose you. But, if it keeps you safe then, I guess it's what we have to do. I have to go. I'll...see you around. Walker."

I stuff my hands in my pockets and head away from him, farther into the school.

I don’t think I’m going in the right direction for my next class. In fact, I’m going the wrong way. 

It doesn’t matter.

I go into the boys’ bathroom to sulk, but there's people in here…

I could make them leave, but I don't have the energy.

I just…can’t process what just happened.

When did Josiah Walker  _ mean _ something to me?

Why is this so hard all of the sudden?

I’m going home.

I don’t care anymore.  **_I’m going home._ **

I wait in the bathroom for the bell to ring, and once it does, I sneak out and ride home quickly, ready for a drink...or twenty.

Pierre’s car is in the driveway, but of course my parents are gone.

I wonder what all he has to do in a day anymore. 

To be honest, looking after an empty house everyday seems really fucking boring.

Either way, I need to just get something to drink and go hide in my room, away from him.

I go inside and Pierre is nowhere to be seen.

I grab some random bottles from our always well stocked liquor cabinet, and I take them upstairs, going quickly.

I drop my bookbag onto the floor and sit on my couch, opening the first bottle and beginning to drink it.

All I can think about is him…

Why the fuck does it hurt so badly?

After all, we were only friends.

_ Friends. _

That’s all we ever would have been, despite what I thought I wanted.

I could walk into that school, and pretty much get with any girl that I want, but none of them are interesting to me anymore.

I want  _ him. _

I liked being his friend, too.

How his eyes would light up when I would get him chicken nuggests or somthing else as equally stupid...

How his face would go red when I would call him  _ cute _ ...

And, oh my God, he’s so fucking  **_cute_ ** .

Every single time he would lean over me to check my work during tutoring…

I wanted to kiss him.

I… I can’t keep this up.

I lay on my couch, which is too small for me to be laying on it, so my legs dangle over the armrest, but  _ whatever _ .

It works.

I take another drink, then I hook my phone to my bluetooth speakers that I’m not allowed to use unless no one’s home,

And I put Taylor Swift on full blast, not giving a fuck that I’ll be deaf at thirty-five at this rate.

_ Teardrops On My Guitar  _ plays first, and it only takes a few minutes for someone to throw my bedroom door open.

I start screaming along.

I don’t care anymore.

What’s the point?

I lost my only  **actual** friend.

“Damien? What the fuck are you doing?!” Pierre yells over the music.

“Can’t talk. Having a crisis.” I yell back, taking another drink.

I watch him go to my speakers and unplug them, the music immediately stopping.

“Damn you, Pierre. You suck.  **_Boooooo_ ** .” I boo him.

“Are you drinking? It’s 11:00 a.m.!”

“I’m dying, Pierre.” I say, and he takes the almost empty bottle out of my hands, and grabs the other one and puts them out of reach.

Doesn't matter. I’m already drunk.

“What is going on? Why aren’t you at school?”

“The only person I've ever liked hates me.”

“What do you mean? Who?” He sits down on the table beside the couch, and stares at me expectantly.

“Who do you think?  **Him** .” I say bitterly, staring up at the ceiling.

“ **_Him_ ** …? Josiah?”

“Yeah. It doesn't matter. We’re not friends anymore. Not like I wanted to be  _ just friends _ …” I murmur, then quickly cover my mouth with my hand, staring at him wide-eyed.

He smiles at me. “Damien, you know it’s okay for you to like him that way...right?”

“If my parents found out… Do you remember Parker? My friend when I was little…?”

He nods, “Yeah… But you’re an adult now, Damien.”

“You don’t...think I would _ go to  _ **_Hell_ ** for it? Like they said.”

He sighs. “No. Everyone deserves to be with someone they love. It’s okay.”

“I DIDN’T SAY  _ LOVE _ ,” I sit up quickly, “He’s just really cute and nice and isn’t afraid of me and… I want to be with him. But it doesn’t matter. ‘Cause he said we can’t be friends anymore. I’m not even in the  _ friendzone _ , Pierre! I would rather be in the  **_friendzone_ ** than  **_this_ ** !”

I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know why I thought this would work. I’m so stupid.”

He puts a hand on my arm reassuringly. “You’re not stupid, Damien. Do you really want to be with him, friend or not?”

I shake my head, feeling tears come to my eyes. “Yeah, but he doesn’t want to see me, like  **ever** . He said he would still do tutoring but… I doubt it will last. He’ll just leave.”

“Hey, don’t give up on it just yet. You haven’t lost him entirely, okay? Talk to him at tutoring, try to get him back, maybe even tell him how you feel...?”

“Fuck no!” I say, pulling away and laying back down on the couch with a sigh, “Maybe you’re right...not about the telling him how I feel. That’s a horrible idea. But maybe at tutoring, I can...maybe we can be friends. And being  _ friends _ is better than nothing. I just… I need him.”

I look up at him with tears in my eyes and he stands.

“C’mon. Let’s go do something fun. Get your mind off this.”

“Like what?” I ask, standing up beside him.

“Whatever you want.”

I rub the tears out of my eyes. “Can we make cookies? Like we used to?”

He hugs me, “Of course.” 

I start crying again. “Asshole.” I say quietly, hugging him tighter.

He lets me go and I compose myself.

“What kind of cookies do you want to make?”

“Duh. The only acceptable cookie.”

He rolls his eyes. “You really haven't changed, have you?”

I smile at him, and try my best to actually mean it.

...

His name was Parker.

And when I was ten, he was all I could think about.

All I wanted was to be around him. 

He made me... _ feel something _ . As a kid, I didn't really know what it was, but we were really close  _ friends _ .

We had been inseparable since he moved to town that summer.

He always called me his best friend.

But all * knew, was this pretty girl named Kenzie had a boyfriend, and it seemed like more and more people were starting to… _ date. _

And by  _ date _ , I mean their parents would drive them to see a movie together, and they sat together at lunch and held hands on the playground.

I didn't know it wasn't okay to feel this way about Parker.

In fact, I couldn't get him out of my head. It was a school crush, and nothing more, but, looking back, I wonder if we would like each other now.

I'm a lot different now than I was then. I'm a lot taller, and a lot less into Power Rangers.

But that's beside the point.

One day after school, Parker was over at my house, and we were doing homework.

I remember he had curly brown hair. And all I wanted to do was touch it. 

I said his name and he looked up and smiled.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "I like you."

He looked confused and said, "I like you, too? We're best friends, dummy."

"No." I shook my head. "I  _ like _ you. I… I want to hold hands. Like Kenzie does with her  _ boyfriend _ ."

He looked surprised. "Really?"

I nodded, embarrassed. "Yeah. I… I know that boys are with boys sometimes. I saw it on TV, and thought… I want to be with you."

"But I thought you liked Kenzie." 

"She has a boyfriend, remember? She got him in summer camp this year."

Everyone knows summer camp boyfriends were always made up, but at the time, I thought she was so pretty, and everyone wanted her because she was unavailable. I had no chance with her, but it didn't matter anymore. Because I liked Parker more.

"I know that. But you can't like boys and girls. Everyone knows that."

_ I…couldn't _ ? That was news to me.

"Well, I do. I like you, and I like Kenzie. But I like you more. And I want to hold hands and...kiss."

He looked up at me and smiled, and I was terrified he was going to make fun of me, or worse, tell the whole school I  _ liked _ him, then make fun of me.

But he didn't.

"Damien, I like you, too. You can be my boyfriend."

…

The next day, Parker and I walked out of the school, holding hands.

None of the other kids seemed to mind that we were two guys together. No one bothered us and all I knew was that I liked him. A lot.

When Pierre picked me up from school, he asked, "Who was that holding your hand? Was that your friend Parker?" 

"No. My  _ boyfriend _ Parker."

I remember how he looked at me.

He looked scared. And knowing what happened later, I don’t blame him.

"Buddy, you cannot, under any circumstances, tell your mom and dad, okay? They wouldn't like it."

His sudden urgency scared me. "What? Why? Parker is my boyfriend. We sit together at lunch and hold hands… He makes me happy."

I had only been with him for a day, but I was convinced we were going to get married.

"Your parents...don’t know it’s okay. If they find out, you'll be in a lot of trouble." He said. 

"So you want me to break up with him?" I asked, tears in my eyes.

He ruffled a hand in my hair. "No! Of course not, buddy! If you like him, you should be with him. Simple as that. But if you tell your mom and dad, you will get in trouble. Just be careful. Not everyone is okay with it. They should be, but that's not how the world works."

I nodded my head.

And, God... I wish I would have listened, and been more secretive, or never dated him at all.

…

A few weeks of utter bliss were what happened next. I swore I was in love with him, but we didn't even know what  _ love _ meant.

One day, Parker and I were walking hand in hand out of the building, and for once, my parents must have gotten out of work in time, because they picked me up instead.

And as they were in the car line, my mother saw me, and got out, rushing over to me.

"Damien, what the hell are you doing?!" She raised her voice. She was using her scary voice that she used when she was mad. 

I let go of Parker and he looked just as afraid as I felt.

"Mom… This is Parker. My boyfriend." 

Maybe Pierre was wrong. Maybe she would be nice.

"Don't you ever say that again!" She snapped, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from him and into the car.

He looked so scared…

I watched him stand alone in front of the school as my dad pulled us out of the parking lot, my mom yelling at me the whole time.

_ "God said a man and a woman!” _

_ "Who told you this was okay?" _

_ "If you're with him you will burn forever in Hell! Do you want that?!"  _ She yelled at me.

I cried as I shook my head  _ no _ .

I didn't want to go to Hell.

Hell was were the bad people went.

Pierre said it was okay…but I didn't want him to get yelled at, too.

As she lectured me the whole way home, my dad said nothing.

My father isn’t very religious, and I don't think he cared that much about the whole issue, but he always let mom just raise that side of me. She normally made me go with her almost every Sunday to church, because she went every Sunday.

I will still never get how she can justify working with my father, but not me at ten years old having a boyfriend.

When we got home, she told me to go to my room and think about what I've done. She told me to pray and ask for God's  _ forgiveness _ .

So, I went upstairs and did nothing.

I hated praying.

I played on my D.S. and just hid under the blanket, as I heard my mom screaming at my dad.

He must have tried to stand up for me, but after a bit, I heard the door slam.

I ran to my window and saw my dad speed out of the driveway.

Then I heard her stomp up the stairs toward me.

I was so afraid.

I never would call her  _ abusive _ , but she would hit me in the mouth if I said something bad, or take away my D.S.

When she came in my room, I had never seen her that furious.

"Are you happy, you little brat?! Your  **sin** made your father leave! He's gone now! Why aren't you praying?! I told you to pray!"

I started crying then. She pushed me to my knees beside my bed and forced my hands together.

I was sobbing at this point.

I thought my dad left because I was with Parker.

"No son of mine will be a faggot! I can't imagine how the church would feel if they knew…" She kneeled down beside me, "Pray and ask God to forgive you!"

"For what?!" I cried.

She smacked me in the mouth, making me cry more.

I still don't know how to shut the fuck up.

"You know  **_for what_ ** ! For your  **sin.** Ask God to forgive you, and take that sin away!"

I tried to get up but she pushed me on my knees again, forcing my hands together.

"Pray."

"God…please…" I said through tears, "Please t-take away my sin, dear Lord. Pl-please. Take away...Parker."

"Good," She said, standing up, "Pray that until you fall asleep tonight, and think long and hard about the consequences of your actions, Damien. You will never be allowed to be with a boy! It is the worst sin! And I will not tolerate it. And neither will God. Do you understand?" 

I nodded my head, not moving from my spot.

As soon as she left, I went to my computer and messaged Parker. We had a chat room online that we talked on. Neither of us had phones yet.

We usually used it to talk about trading Pokemon and stuff, but I couldn't see him anymore. I had to tell him  _ goodbye _ .

**_Damien _**has entered the chat.

**_Damien_** : My mom says it's a sin that we're together and that we can't see each other anymore. So we have to break up and can't be friends.

I watched him enter the chat, but it took him a few minutes to reply.

**_Parker_** : What? Why?! But I thought you liked me.

I thought maybe if I told him I didn't like him anymore, that he would be happier. So I lied.

**_Damien_** : I don't think I like boys, she's right. And I don't think we can be friends anymore. Bye Parker.

You have blocked **_Parker _**in the chat. To undo, click  _ here _ .

It hurt to say that. To lie like that. And I knew that lying was a sin, so I was guilty  _ and _ it hurt.

It couldn't have been right if it hurt that bad.

I threw myself onto my bed and cried all night over him. Because I didn't just have to break up with my first boyfriend, I had to lose my best friend, too.

And that was the last time I ever talked to him.

He tried to approach me at school the next day, but I ignored him.

Again and again, he tried to talk to me, but I had to tell him to leave, that I wasn't interested.

But it hurt so much. I missed him. He was my only friend.

But it wasn't allowed.

Mom started making me go with her to every Sunday morning and night service, and had a bunch of church members privately talk with me about how  _ being  _ **_queer_ ** _ makes you burn in Hell... _ **_forever_ ** _. _

I saw Parker every day that school year, as I passed him in the halls. But after a week of me ignoring him, he found new friends. New people to sit with at lunch.

And I sat alone.

The next year we moved across the city, into a bigger house, and I never saw him again.

…

-Wednesday, September 22nd-

I wait for Josiah, leaning against my car.

I can’t get Pierre’s advice out of my head.

He said I should tell him how I feel.

...Not now. Not yet.

I just got him back as a friend, I can’t risk losing him if he doesn’t feel that same way.

But holy shit, holding his hand was amazing.

And I really hope it wasn’t a one time thing…

But on the other hand, it made me have a lot of thoughts of pushing him down on the couch and kissing him…

He would flip.

So obviously, I didn't.

But thinking about it doesn't really hurt anything…

I see him approach slowly, looking around as if to see if anyone else is here…as if he can  _ SEE _ .

“Over here.” I say, and he turns to look at me.

I park in the same spot every time now, so he can find me easier.

“Hi.” He smiles.

Every time he smiles, I can’t help but smile back...not that he can see it. Just the idea that he’s happy makes me happy…

“Hi.” I say back. He walks up to me and stops a foot away, looking up at me.

“Let’s go.”

I clear my throat and look away. “Right. Sorry.”

I get in the car and wait for him.

He climbs into the passenger’s side and I say, “One second. I have to text someone really quick.”

I pull out my phone and spam him with heart emojis.

His phone vibrates, and he pulls his phone from his pocket.

He puts it close to his face and squints at it for a moment.

He then looks up and glares at me. “It’s easier to just...say things out loud, you know.”

“Oh. Okay.  _ Blue heart emoji _ .” I smile at him.

“No, dumb-ass. Say  _ I love you, _ or something. Not  _ blue heart emoji _ .” 

“W-What?”

Say... **_WHAT?_ **

He… I… 

What?!

“What about  _ what _ ?”

“What do you mean  _ what about what _ ? What about what you just said!” I stammer, feeling my face flush.

Goddammit.

Fucking  _ Josiah Walker _ .

“Which part? Did I say something wrong?” He fidgets with his sleeves and stares wide-eyed at me.

Oh my God.

I imagine pushing his hair out of his eyes and kissing him right now…

I don't know if it’s worse or better now that I’m letting myself actually think about stuff like this...

I must stay silent for too long, because he says, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Let’s go study.” I say, starting the car and trying to calm the fuck down.

I turn my radio on, and Taylor Swift starts playing quietly in the background.

Shit. 

I fumble for my phone, and quickly change it to My Chemical Romance.

But it’s too late.

He  _ knows _ .

“Turn it back.” 

“No...Taylor Swift is...dumb.”

It hurts my heart to say that.

It physically  **hurts** me.

"Um. I only like punk music." I lie, very unconvincingly.

You think I would be better at lying by now, good lord.

"It's not singing, though. It's yelling. Why are they yelling? Why are they angry?" His hands go up and cover his ears for emphasis. 

“Because life sucks."

And life sucks because I want to kiss my closest friend.

That's what I'm yelling about when I scream along to the songs.

"Taylor Swift's life sucks, too. But she doesn't yell. She just complains...a lot." 

“I mean,  **same** ..." I laugh, "Would you rather hear Taylor Swift?" 

_ I would rather hear Taylor Swift. _

“It doesn't matter. I just don't like it when people yell." He pouts. 

“Sorry…” I say, switching it back to Taylor Swift, "But the Taylor Swift stays between us." 

"So Taylor Swift is our thing...? You know, how every pair of people have a thing that they always do? Ours is listening to Taylor Swift now." He laughs softly. 

_ Couple _ .

The word he's looking for...is  **_couple_ ** .

_ No, it’s not, Damien.  _

_ You  _ **_dumb-ass_ ** _. _

_ You’re not a couple.  _

_ You will never be a  _ **_couple_ ** _.  _

Just...enjoy being with him.

"Yes. Taylor Swift is now our thing. It's our... _ pair of people  _ thing." I keep my eyes on the road. 

"Do you sing?" He asks after a beat of silence between us.

"What?" 

**_He knows._ **

How does he  _ KNOW _ my literal one guilty pleasure?!

Well, one of many guilty pleasures, but how does he know my one  _ SECRET _ guilt pleasure?!

Playing guitar and singing…

“...Nope. I don't. Do you?"

"I'm not allowed. I used to, when I lived with my dad. It's fun. You should try it." He says.

“What? Like  _ now _ ? Like  _ right here, right now _ ?"

I know all of her songs word for word, and I can play most of them on my guitar, too.

"Sure." He shrugs.

"Not unless you sing, too." 

"I can't.  _ I'm now allowed _ ," He repeats, "But you should. It'll get the pent up anger and stress you have inside of you to come out." 

“How do you know I have pent up anger and stress?"

“Because everyone does. And everyone has their own way of getting it out. Yours is currently beating people up...and listening to people yell instead of sing."

“I'm not  **_singing_ ** . That's embarrassing. I've never sang in front of anyone before. " 

"You can sing in front of me, though. I don't mind." 

I really want to. 

I really, really want to. 

_ Shake It Off _ starts playing.

Ehh… What the hell.

I start singing along, quietly.

Afraid he'll laugh at me. 

"You're good at this." He smiles brightly.

I stop singing immediately. "I...do sing. A lot. Never in front of anyone. But it is stress relieving." 

What the fuck…? Why not? He knows a bunch about me now anyway.

Who cares?

“And I...play guitar. But no one knows. Don't tell anyone."

“You play guitar?! Will you teach me?  **_Please_ ** ?" "What? No. I'm… I'm not good at it." I feel my face flush. 

I pull my car into the garage and I get out. 

"What are we studying first?" I ask him as he gets out. I grab both of our bags and lead him inside, hoping he changes the subject. 

"Guitar." He says immediately.

I groan, "Josiah...!" 

"I want to play instruments! When I was really little, I had this toy xylophone. I only knew how to play  _ Twinkle, Twinkle _ , but that was enough for me. Teach me  _ Twinkle, Twinkle  _ on the guitar." 

I mean, at least it's not... _ business. _

“Fine." I sigh, leading him to the stairs. 

I make him go first then follow behind him, trying not to stare at his ass the whole time because that feels pervy. He wears pretty baggy jeans, but my imagination can fill in plenty of gaps.

I lead him into my room and grab my guitar from where it leans against the wall beside my bed.

I sit down on the couch with it and he sits beside me.

“Okay. Maybe the best way I can show you is if you hold the guitar and I show you which strings? I've never taught anyone anything."

"I could just sit in front of you and watch you play it a few times. Then I might be able to do it." "That works, too." I play  _ Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star _ slowly.

He kneels down in front of the couch, on the floor, staring at the guitar... _ closely… _

_ The ways he's sitting… And he’s so close... I... _

Good Lord, I need to chill.

“Do you want to try now?" I ask him quickly.

I can only think about one thing; The way that we're sitting. 

He looks up at my with innocent eyes and I immediately feel guilty

"It starts with this one?" He reaches out and touches the first chord, still looking up at me. As if he could see my face to read my expression. "Yeah." I say quietly.

_ Trying to calm down _ ...

I look down at his hand and say, "You won't know how to do it until you try." 

"You sound uncomfortable..." He remarks softly. "I'm always uncomfortable." 

He needs to move.

**_Now_ ** .

"If you really don't want t-to teach me, then it's okay. I don't know what's wrong, but I-I don't want to make you...uncomfortable." He stammers.

"Just...come sit beside me. I'll show you how to hold the guitar." 

I don't want to make things weird. 

I want to be friends. 

I do.

Anything is better than nothing.

"Okay," He gets up off of the floor and sits right next to me, "We're going to study chemistry after this. For a long time. Because you need to work a lot on it." He giggles. 

I hand the guitar to him and he takes it, holding it  **_way_ ** wrong.

"Okay. Rude,” I laugh, "Can I help you? I'll just touch your hands...hold it how I was holding it in my lap."

“Okay... Yeah, just show me." 

I sit the guitar in his lap and I put his hands where they go. "There. You should be able to reach all the strings from that position. Do remember which one is first?" 

"No. I can't see it anymore... I don't like holding it like this anyway. It doesn't feel right."

“That's how you hold it. I'm going to touch your hands again. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Of course." He says as if this is a totally normal thing…

_ Touching him... _

"Sorry. I just don't want to scare you." I say, taking his hand and going to move it, but before I can move it, he lets go of the guitar and intertwines our fingers.

I feel my face flush and I'm so glad he can't see me.

I look down at our hands then look up at him, staring in his eyes, unable to look away

“ _ No _ ?" He starts giggling.

"No..." I smile, "I thought you wanted to learn?" His hand is quite smaller than mine. But he is a lot smaller than me in general.

His hand fits there perfectly, and I don't want to let go.

“I want to play guitar while holding your hand." "Sorry, bud. Not how it works." 

He's so close.... If I just leaned down and took his face in my hands…

"I can't do it anyway. This hand doesn't do anything. I'm left handed." He states. 

"Oh! Right. I forgot.  _ No wonder you couldn't do it _ . We can just move the guitar around a bit if you want..." I say, not letting go.

I don't want to let go, ever.

I can't get over how his  _ touch _ makes me feel.

Thank God he doesn't like touching, because I don't know how much of this could handle before I would  **_die_ ** .

"I think guitar requires both hands, though. The right one doesn't know how to do anything. This is a problem." 

"Right. I guess you need to let go of my hand first." I make no move to let go. 

"Not like it'll change anything. I think we should take a break and hold hands." 

I'm not going to complain.

"What about chemistry? And we can't take a break if we haven't started yet."

"I'll just list off chemistry facts and you tell me if they're true or false. So we don't have to move or stop holding hands." He giggles more. 

He always seems so sad and stressed… I wish I could make him smile all of the time.

I take the guitar from his hands again and sit it on the table in front of us, then I take his hand again and sit back, shutting my eyes.

He leans against me a bit. "I'm going to take a nap first." 

I try not to move, my entire body wanting to freak out where he's touching me

He's not even that close, but I'm hyper aware of how close he is.

"I'm always down for a nap."

"... _ Naps _ aren't  _ business _ ." He sighs. 

" _Naps_ are _my_ **_business_** … No. _Naps are my_ ** _life_**." 

"No, we can't... We have to do chemistry." 

“Just like...ten minutes?" I plead. He makes me so relaxed that I could just sleep all the time. 

I usually have a hard time sleeping at night, getting my brain to shut up.

This is nice.

"No. Hey... Damien... Is glass a liquid or a solid?" He asks, sounding tired all the sudden. 

"Um. Solid." 

It has to be. It’s solid, not wet.

I don't open my eyes. 

"Close enough...  _ Glass _ actually isn't either. It's considered an  _ amorphous solid _ , which is kinda a mixture of both liquid and solid..." He starts rambling sleepily.

“That's interesting. Imagine if it was liquid, though."

"It wouldn't cut things anymore. And glass cups would be pretty useless." 

“Wait! Is there a correlation between that and the reason that you can see a reflection in water, a liquid?" I sit up, curious now, “Because you can see your reflection in glass." 

"Maybe. You should research it.  **_I_ ** can't see my reflection anywhere." 

"Josiah, you’re blind."

“I know. It's really sad."

“Oh my God. I'm glad you know. I was afraid I would have to break the news to you first." I chuckle.

“You usually have to explain everything to me anyways. Go ahead and try to break the news that I'm blind. It'll be funny." He suggests. 

"Josiah. You know...um. There's something I've been meaning to tell you…  _ You can’t  _ **_see_ ** . I know this may come as a shock to you, but it’s just how it is, dude. Sorry about your luck. Your eyes may be pretty, but they're also pretty useless."

“Are my eyes pretty?” He asks softly.

“Yeah. They are...I guess you really don’t know all that much what you look like, do you? Well, unless you stare very closely into a mirror occasionally… Which means I'm sure you know how your eyes look...nevermind.”

**_Stupid._ **

“I really don’t know. I have very little idea what I look like.”

_ You’re the cutest person I've ever seen… _

I can’t say that.

“Your eyes are really big and innocent and the brightest blue I’ve ever seen on a real person, and you have long eyelashes, and…”

I realize I've been rambling, and I stop for a second, blushing. “Uh. You have  _ girl eyes _ .” I manage weakly.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I-I think so.” I squeeze his hand a bit.

“Thanks.”

I’m the biggest idiot on the planet, but at least I still have him in my life.

As a... _ friend _ .

Now I just need to come to terms with the fact that it will never be anything more than that, and that’s okay.

End


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter  18-

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Thursday, September 23rd-

I feel like Damien has been acting weird lately. He’s become so... **_nice_ ** . And he’s so protective and caring.

I don’t know what I did to deserve him.

The only reason I can think of is because I can’t have him forever.

Eventually, he will do something. Then it’s all over. 

He isn’t actually safe…

But he thinks he is.

And he thinks he can protect me. Or, he says he will. Then when I ask  _ how,  _ he always says  _ I don’t know _ . 

We’ll see. 

It’s during lunchtime that I get cornered. 

Two kids from Damien’s grade - Jacob and David - snatched me before I could go to the cafeteria and dragged me outside. It wasn’t the first time that I was caught by these two, so I know for a fact that they aren’t as murderous as Logan is.

I shoot a text to Damien while they’re distracted; 

outside..front of school. Please help

All I could do was wait for him, and see if he even comes at all. 

Jacob shoved me against the wall, taking a fistful of my hair, as if I would ever try to run away. He socked me in the jaw, making my head slam back against the wall behind me. 

I couldn’t help it but to burst into tears, having felt that pain a few too many times. 

_ Damien, please…  _ **_Please_ ** _. _

“Pussy.” David remarks, as if that means anything to me.

I literally do not know what that means.

“It’s in your best interest to let me go.” I warn them. 

“The fuck you talking about? You can’t do anything to us!” Jacob pins me back.

I take a deep, shaky breath, trying not to have a breakdown. 

I don’t like not being able to move, and being pinned like this feels suffocating. Only Logan has ever seen me actually freak out just because of bullying. 

“So, it’s in your best interest to shut the hell up and take this like a man instead of being a little bitch!” David adds.

I get slammed into the wall again, my hands starting to tremble slightly.

Suddenly, I hear Damien say in a low growl, "You can either let him go, or I will make you let him go. It's up to you." 

Thank God. I didn’t want to go home early today.

“What’s it to you?” Jacob questions.

“It doesn’t matter. The only thing you need to know is  **_this_ ** ," He says, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him closer to him, "You leave him the fuck alone and I won't beat you up every single day until graduation, you guys understand? If you tell anyone about this, I will make your lives a living Hell." 

He lets him go, and Jacob and David both scurry off like he is the scariest person in the world. If only they knew…

If they have seen him sitting down patiently and teaching me to play the guitar, or if they heard his voice when he first wakes up and he is all groggy, and the way he holds my hand and keeps me safe...

Yeah. If only they knew. 

“Thanks, Damien!” I offer him a grin, wanting a hug.

“No,” He puts his hand up to stop me, making me back off nervously, “What the fuck are you doing? You can’t go around getting into fights. I can’t come save you everyday. We can’t talk to each other here.” He reminds me harshly. 

I pout up at him, “There’s no one out here. And… And I didn’t pick a fight, they grabbed me and dragged me out here.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “You do pick fights! You wear nerdy glasses and paint your nails and expect people to accept you. You can't expect me to keep saving you. What happens when someone sees us?"

“I… You bought me these glasses, and the nail polish. If you don’t help me, then I’m just going to go back to my own method. You told me to message you if I need help.” I mutter. 

He sighs again and leans against the wall beside me, seeming exhausted as fuck. I think he is officially sick of me.

"The only option left is for you to stop letting people walk all over you! If they push you, push them back!”

“Violence isn’t allowed on school grounds…” 

“Josiah…  **_Fight back_ ** . I have to go. Don’t message me unless you’re in serious danger and you can’t do anything to get out on your own.” He starts to walk away.

“Damien! What about… What about the rules? I-I don’t want detention.” 

I want  **_him_ ** , damn it… 

Why didn’t  _ this _ get his attention?!

Does it either have to be  _ Logan _ or  _ tutoring _ for him to focus on me?!

"I have to go," He says coldly, no doubt afraid of being caught by his friends, “I'll talk to you later."

Maybe I should have just let them beat me… I don’t know what I expected from Damien, really.

I think I expected him to be as protective here as he is otherwise. He kind of was, but he also seems far more cold towards me than usual.

I must have done something.

“Stay with me…” I mumble, and I know it’s too quiet for him to hear.

He leaves, which I assume means he really didn’t hear me. There’s no way he would leave me if he heard me. 

**_No way_ ** _. _

…

-Friday, September 24th-

“Hey, dumb-ass,” I begin, after a moment of silence as he studies, “Do you think it’s time for a break yet?”

We’ve been doing this for about an hour. And he just isn’t understanding the material.

“No! I’ll get it!” He says, frustrated, “ **_I hate chemistry_ ** .”

“You either have to take a break, or learn to do homework and study with one hand.”

“If you hold my left hand, I can still study.”

I laugh at him, “No, you won’t. You’ll get distracted.” 

“What do you mean? I won’t get distracted. What makes you think that?”

I stare at him for a moment, wishing I could see his face so I could gauge if he is being serious or not.

He  **_always_ ** gets distracted when I make physical contact with him. It gets his attention on me more than anything else does.

“...I want to take a break. Let’s do something else. There’s other business to get to.”

“But I still don’t get it!

“Look over it this weekend. Then we’ll talk about whatever you still don’t understand on Monday.”

“...Okay.” He says, sighing and leaning back in his chair.

“What do you want to do instead?” 

“I don’t know, did you want to make dinner…? So that you can learn? But I’ll only teach you if you eat it afterwards. Because you don’t eat enough and it scares me and I don’t give a flying fuck about what your aunt says. So, if you're serious about learning, you have to eat it, too.”

“You’re so obsessed with me being safe until it has to do with some sort of personal gain you get. That wouldn’t be safe. She’d kill me if she found out that I kept doing exactly what she told me not to do.” 

“She won’t. She won’t know if you don’t tell her. How would she find out that you ate before you came home?”

“She just knows things. And with how I am, I would probably feel so damn guilty I would just tell her anyways.”

“Not all rules are good rules.”

“I think you need to accept the way things are. This has always been my life.”

“I think you need to accept that living under her rules will kill you, Josiah. I don’t care if it’s always been this way. Things change, even if you don’t want them to. And **_this_** **has** to change. I’m really worried about you.”

“It would kill me to not live under her rules, though,” I say, holding my hand out to him, “Hand?”

He doesn’t give it to me right away. He must be pissed.

“No. It wouldn’t. It would be hard, but it wouldn't kill you.”

“We’ve been over this. I can’t leave her, and as long as I live with her, I don’t have any right to disobey her.” 

He takes my hand hesitantly. “Josiah, I… I  _ really like _ you, and I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself like this.”

“Show me how to make food so I can do it later. Once I can get away. It doesn’t matter right now.” I tell him.

He’s weirdly obsessed with this whole  _ food _ thing...

“You can’t _ get away _ if you’re dead!” He snaps, “...I’m sorry. I just… All I can think about is  **you** and how much I’m worried about you and how I want to fix everything but I can’t, and that maybe I can fix this, but I keep trying, and you won't work with me at all…” He rambles on and on, “I just can’t lose you. You’re the one good thing I have right now.”

“I’ll be okay…” I squeeze his hand and look down at our intertwined fingers, “You’re paranoid.”

“No,  _ you’re _ too relaxed about all of this.”

“What’s the use in continuously freaking out over how things have always been?”

“Because, it doesn't have to be that way, but you think it does. I’m trying to  **help** .”

“Damien. You’re baiting me and it feels like you’re just teasing because you know I can’t do anything. You know what I want and you keep saying I can have all these good things, but… I don’t know. Let’s just cook something.”

“Okay, I guess, but we’re talking about this later.”

“Alright,” I stand, pulling on his hand a bit to get him to get up, too, “What do you want to make?”

“Something that isn’t chicken nuggets.”

“Sounds good. Like what?”

“What’s a good starter food…?” He thinks for a moment, then says, “Mac-N-cheese? It’s easy, but still requires the stove and stuff. Does that sound okay?”

“ _ More cheese _ ? Do people just put cheese on everything?”

“The smart people, yes.” He leads me into the kitchen.

“Makes sense. What’s step one…? Is cooking easy with one hand?” I give him a slight smile, mentally informing him that I’m not gonna let go.

“I think we can manage.”

He manages to fill a pot with water and set it on the stove.

I watch him try to hold a box and open it with one hand. I get the feeling that he looks ridiculous, and I don’t know whether to laugh or help.

After all, I’m supposed to be learning.

Right…

“...So. The water is going to boil, and what will that do to the macaroni noodles when we put them in?” I ask him.

It’s chemistry. I wonder if he realizes that.

“It’s simple. To cook noodles, you boil water, then once the water boils, you boil the noodles until they’re soft. Then you remove the water and add cheese.”

“Do you know  **why** the boiling water makes them soft?”

“Warm.”

“Look into it. It’s really cool. Can you imagine if your bones did that when it gets hot?”

“Noodle bones.” He laughs, finally getting the box open with one hand.

Impressive.

“You wouldn’t be able to do much. Because your limbs would be floppy. If we could move, we would probably look like squids.”

That would be interesting.

“It would be about as useful as holding hands and making macaroni.”

“I guess so. I’ll let go.” I start to pull my hand away.

He holds on. “No, wait, I didn’t mean that…”

“Why do you like the hand holding thing? I like it because I can feel you, so I know how close you are.”

“I like being close to you.”

I take a step closer to him and lean my head against his shoulder. “Good. I like it, too.”

I feel safe…

Something about him tricks my brain into believing that anything is okay. 

I even looked at him and said  _ I’ll be okay _ . It’s strange…

“...Is false hope bad?”

“What?” He murmurs, and I’m not sure he’s listening.

I think he is  _ distracted _ . 

“I feel like things are going to be okay when I’m with you...but it’s false hope. Is that bad?”   
“I don’t think it's bad, no. And I'm glad that you feel that way.”

“It goes away when you leave.” I sigh.

I press my forehead against him.

I wish I could stay.

“But it comes back when you see me again. So, I think it’s worth it.”

“Yeah… We should do this more often. Being around each other...and doing  _ business _ .” 

“We should also do  _ business _ on Mondays.”

“You should cancel your plans with everyone else so we can do business all the time.” I chuckle.

“Ethan and Hunter are already mad that I've cut parties back to once a week.”

“Ethan and Hunter are assholes. They don’t even like you.”

“That’s not true. They’re just worried about me. You can’t be upset at them for missing me.”

“They don’t make you happy…” I point out softly.

He should be surrounded by people who make him happy. Then he’ll become a good person.

“They...make me happy. They do. Because I'm happier with them than I am alone...not by a lot, but at least I’m not alone.”

“That means you would rather…  _ Nevermind _ .” I mutter.

He’s never going to understand...

“No. Tell me. _Rather_ **_what_**?”

“You’ll be angry,” I say, “I can’t tell you.”

“I won’t get angry.”

He will…

“Damien. Them taking away loneliness isn’t enough. Do you feel happy right now? Do you feel lonely?” I run my free hand along the back of his shirt.

The material feels nice. 

“Um- in this exact moment? No. Not in the slightest.”

“You spending time with them, partying and stuff… It doesn’t feel the same as this, does it?”

Because I genuinely care about him. 

And I know he just craves affection.

“No, but it's not bad either. It’s just  **not** this.” He lets out an unsteady breath. “It’s different.”

“You won’t cancel your plans with them to do this instead. You would rather be out partying with them and a bunch of random people. Maybe this isn’t as good or important to you as you think it is.”

In other words… He’s been lying to me.

“No, trust me. There’s nowhere I would rather be than right here. But I can’t just abandon them, Ethan took me under his wing when I moved here, I can't just abandon him all the sudden.”

_ I need him more than they do. _

“I told you that you would be mad.” I mumble against him.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m just trying to explain it.”

He’s mad…

I just move closer to him and try to act as cute and sweet as possible so he won’t get too mad.

“I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy…” 

“You don’t have to apologize. We need to put the noodles in now. It’s boiling.”

“I’ll do it. Give me the box.” I pull away from him. 

“Be careful, it’s hot. Let me help…” 

“Damn it, Damien. I’m not a baby.” I smile up at him.

_ Act as cute and sweet as possible, then he won’t be mad… _

“Okay. Fine. But have fun when you’re on fire.”

I shake my head dismissively and pour the macaroni into the pot.

**_Mostly_ ** _ into the pot. _

_... _ **_I think_ ** _. _

“ _ Easy _ .” I scoff.

“You missed, like, a third of it. It’s all over the stove.”

“Bullshit.” I claim.

Actually...

I think he’s right. It didn’t sound like it should have. 

So much for not making him any more angry than he already is.

“I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.” I add urgently.

I made a mess…

It’s not funny anymore. 

"It’s okay, you'll figure it out. You can't expect to know your way around my kitchen after making one pot of macaroni.” He laughs.

**_Not funny_ ** …!

I pout down at the pot. “I failed. Let’s try again next time.” I sigh dramatically.

A good coping method is pretending to be over-dramatically upset so people don’t know you’re actually disappointed.

“ **_Oh no_ ** ! You missed a third of the box. That doesn't have to do with your cooking abilities, that has to do with your sight abilities. Which is going to be the hardest part.”

“It’s the part that can’t be changed… I don’t think I’m meant to live alone,” I motion faintly toward the pot, probably too close to it, considering the heat, “This failed macaroni and cheese is proof of my eternal failure at everything in life.”

“Don’t wave your hands like that near the stove, please. Also, you  **literally** have a  _ mostly still fine  _ box of macaroni. Don’t act like you’ve failed. It’s your first time. I was shit at math, and now I’m okay at math. Just give it time.” He encourages me.

“You weren’t shit at math. You were just below average. You’re shit at chemistry.” I correct.

Maybe one day he will be good at it. You know, since he doesn’t have any real thing that is stopping him from doing it.

“What? You don’t like me doing this?” I motion to the pot again, shooting him a smile.

“Josiah, don’t make me ban you from the kitchen. I’ll do it.”

He’s egging me on. I know it.

Reverse psychology…

Also known as,  _ me, trying to make up excuses for blatantly disobeying people _ .

“You wouldn’t.” I say.

“What makes you think I won’t?” He asks, putting a hand out expectantly.

I move mine closer to the pot.

“This is funny.” I tell him.

“It’s actually very alarming, please stop.”

I continue going closer before immediately regretting it once my hand touches the pot.

“Shit! Ow.” 

I pull my hand back away and press it to my chest. 

“Oh my god! Are you okay? Let me see!” He panics.

“That was my fault.” I acknowledge.

“Let me see it!” He demands worriedly.

“I deserved that.” I continue.

“No. Let me see. You might be actually hurt, then I have to take you to the ER and then you'll have to get your arm amputated!”

“Awesome. I’ve always wanted to be even more disabled,” I hold my hand out to him, “It didn’t even hurt that much. I was just surprised.” 

He takes it gently. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yes. Not a lot, though.”

“The more important question, what did we learn?  _ Don't be a dumb-ass at the stove _ .”

“I think we learned it’s ineffective when I don’t stick my hand directly into the water.” 

“No. Just don’t be dumb. Easy as that.”

“Maybe you should try not being dumb.”

“What am I going to do with this macaroni since you’re not eating it?”

“Give it to Pierre.”

“We should give it to Pierre. He would like it, I think.”

I stare at him for a moment before turning to face the floor, pulling at my sleeves. “Can I try it first? Just, like...one macaroni noodle…?”

I don’t know why I’m asking him for permission. I know what he’s going to say.

“You can have as much as you want.”

No. But I think I should try it.

“Okay. Should I drain the water yet?” I ask.

“Not yet. Let me stir it and see.”

He grabs a spoon and says, “Want to stir it?”

“Depends. Are you going to freak out at me for being too close again? What are you going to do? Hold my hand and guide me?”

Say  **_yes_ ** .

“That was my plan.”

“Oh…” I mumble, giving in, “Guide me, then.”

He puts the spoon in my hand and then brings it to the pot, gently stirring the food. 

I grin, letting go of the spoon and intertwining our fingers instead.

This is too much fun. Doesn’t feel anything like  **_business_ ** …

“You’re not going to learn much this way.” He chuckles.

“I’m learning a lot. Just not about what you’re trying to teach me.” I shrug.

“Really? What are you learning?”

Mostly that I’m pretty sure about the whole  _ only liking guys _ thing…

“I learned that sometimes being touched is okay. And that holding hands is a temporary fix for everything. And that, sometimes, big scary people can be trusted.” I list.

And all of that leads to me feeling really weird things with him.

“I really like holding your hand.” He agrees.

He says that, but I wonder how pissed he would be if he knew how the hand holding makes me think about…

I don’t know…

I kinda wanna kiss him...or something…

I freeze up and stare at our hands.

I knew this  _ friend _ thing was a bad idea.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel guilty.” I say weakly.

So fucking guilty...and it’s not for anything I expected to feel guilty about.

I need to get away from him before this gets worse.

But, I...don’t want to.

“About what?”

“About making someone care about me…” 

If he even actually does. 

I think he does…

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about things you can’t control.”

“I’ve tried to be mean to you, but you still just keep being nice. So I guess I can’t control it.” I try to remind myself.

There’s nothing I can do to make him hate me…?

“I’m not going anywhere, ‘cause I tried and I actually wanted to die.”

“I asked you not to say things like that.”

“Sorry, sometimes it slips out.”

That’s fair…

“You...felt like that because we  **weren’t** together?” 

That part is hard to believe.

“Well, I kinda always feel like that, but when you said we couldn’t be friends anymore, I got really drunk, and, yeah. But Pierre gave me hugs and then we made cookies. Which we have in the fridge if you want one. Chocolate chunk.”

“I  **can’t** .” I’m pretty sure he doesn’t listen to me.

“Just thought I’d offer.”

“Don’t  _ offer _ . It just feels like you’re teasing me because you know I  **can’t** .” 

“You CAN. You just WON’T.”

I’m sick of this argument.

“I’m done cooking. Is it done yet? Can you finish it?” 

He sighs. “I’ll finish it. Do whatever you want,”

I pull away from him and go lean against a counter, about a few feet away.

I try to pay attention to what he’s doing still, but I can’t get the thought out of my head that there’s no reason to. I’m never going to be able to do any of this stuff.

I’m never going to be able to leave home. 

I wasn’t made to be alone.

“...Is it good?” I ask as Damien stirs the macaroni with cheese and milk and...other stuff. 

I can’t tell what any of it is.

“I haven’t tried it yet.” He takes a bite. “Oh my God. the best macaroni I’ve ever had. It never turns out this good when I make it by myself.”

No way.

“I want one bite.” I tell him.

“Come here, then.”

I go over to him. “I like the color…” 

“Here. Try it.” He hands me a fork.

I take a small bite. 

I don’t know if it’s actually really good or if it’s because I haven’t had anything since Tuesday.

“It’s really good…” I say, looking at him and lowering my voice, “Do you really think it’s safe if I have some?”

“I do.”

“Can I...have a plate?” I ask softly.

“Of course. I’ll get you some.”

His constant reassurance makes me feel just a bit less guilty…

I…

I think I love him a lot.

End


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19-

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Friday, September 22-

After we made the mac-n-cheese, he insisted we study.

I watch him carefully as he sits beside me, pulling his books from his bag... Something seems different about him today.

He’s more... _relaxed_. 

I watch him flip through his math book, "Alright. Let's start." 

"Right. Sorry." I tear my eyes away from him and pull my books and my notebook from my bag, sitting them on the table. 

He begins explaining something to me, but as hard as I try to focus on his words, I can’t.    
I’m too distracted… **by him**. 

_ How his slender fingers turn the pages carefully, as if afraid to rip them… _

_ How intently he has to stare at the words because of how shit his eyes are… _

_ How he'll reach up and absentmindedly push his glasses up...  _

_ His bright blue eyes taking everything in with an heir of excitement...  _

I rest my head on my hand, my elbow sitting on the table, letting my mind wander.

I didn't want to study today. I have a grasp on this topic, actually.

But I wanted to see him. 

My eyes trail down to his button nose and then to his lips.

They look... **_soft_ ** .

I can't help but wonder how they would feel against mine.

How those hands would feel on my bare back as I pin him down. How his slender neck would feel under my lips. How he would feel if he was mine....

"You're so sexy." I mutter before I can stop myself.

SHIT. 

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

I don't... What the actual fuck...?

Shit.

I clamp a hand over my mouth and stare at him, wide eyed.

"...What?" He questions, looking up at me.

"I didn't..." I stutter, "I don't... Sorry."

God, I’m so stupid. "Nothing. I didn't say anything." I feel my cheeks heat up.

"You said  _ sexy _ ... Y-You actually just called me  **_sexy_ ** ."

"No. I didn't. I very much didn't." Maybe if I keep denying it.

Fuck. 

Why the fuck would I say that? 

"You did. I heard you. Why would you say something like that?!" He looks upset. 

"I...I didn't mean to! I’m sorry!" I instantly get defensive.

Shit. I fucked this up big time. 

“It just...slipped out..." 

"No. You... Don't s-say that about me. Don't say it or think it." He says. 

"You're not allowed to tell me what I think,” I stand up abruptly, "I'm taking you home. C’mon." 

Clearly, he doesn't want to be here. 

And he sure as fuck doesn't want me...like  **_that_ ** . Or else he wouldn't be freaking out right now.

I guess all we’ll be is  **_friends_ ** ...

"I know I s-shouldn't ask this from you, but I-I don't want you thinking of me l-like that... Please. I'm n-not leaving until you promise." 

...I can't promise him that. I  **_can't_ ** . I can't even keep my thoughts to myself, apparently.

But I can try. 

"Okay. I’m sorry. It won't happen again. Get your stuff. I shouldn't have asked you to come here today." I knew I wasn't studying today. I'm just wasting our time. 

Stupid.

"Okay..." He sighs, rubbing his head. He starts putting his stuff back into his bag. 

We drive back to his house in the car, that way I'm not touching him. 

We stay silent the whole ride there. 

As soon as I park across the street from his house, he turns to me. "I... I'll see you at school." He murmurs. 

"Bye." Is all I say as he gets out. 

As soon as he leaves, I can finally breathe.

Thank god. 

I rest my head on the steering wheel.

What the fuck is wrong with me lately?

I have to get him out of my head.

**_I’m not gay_ ** ... 

I don’t like him that way…

I... I  _ can’t _ . 

I go through my contacts, and text Ethan.

Are you guys still going to that party at Dirks tonight?

He texts me back after a minute. 

**_Ethan_** : Just about to head over there. Did your parents let you out early this time?

Yeah. Work emergency. I’ll meet you guys there.

…

The party ends up being like any other party. Loud music, a shit ton of drugs and alcohol, and some more pretty girls, ready to hook up at a moment’s notice.

I’m standing with Hunter and Ethan, on my second cup of whatever the fuck’s in the punch bowl, when Hunter nudges my arm.

“Dude, Marissa’s staring at you. Like, a lot.”

I turn to look at where he’s looking and say, “ _Marissa_?”

“Yeah. she’s from another school. But she gets around, and I’ve heard she gives really good head.“

I smile at him, then see who he’s talking about.

She has long, black hair, and really red lips, that are turned up in a smile.

She’s with a few other girls, but none of them are as pretty as her…

As soon as we make eye contact, I smile back, and she starts heading over .

Ethan pats me on the back. “Good luck, dude. We’ll leave you to it.”

It’ll be nice to get Josiah out of my head, even if that means fucking someone I’ll forget the name of in the morning.

…

-Monday, September 27th-

I sit at the table alone, Josiah’s lunch and my lunch in hand.

Ethan and Hunter aren’t here yet.

I see Josiah at his normal table alone, and I wonder if I can take this to him…?

He hasn’t texted me since...the  _ incident. _

But, Pierre made us both lunch...and I put an apology sticky note on the sandwich…

I really fucked this up.

I should have been more careful.

I stare at him, and right as I decide to go over, Hunter and Ethan come to the table. 

I quickly put the lunch in my lap, but it’s too late.

“What’s that?”

I shouldn't have tried to hide it.

Hunter sits across from me, and Ethan beside me, and he grabs the lunch from my hands under the table.

He reads the front.

“ _ Josiah _ ?”

I go stiff.

I hate the idea that he would even know he exists.

“Who the fuck is  _ Josiah _ ?” He sneers, “And why the fuck do you have food for him?”

He opens the bag.

No…

He pulls the sticky note out and I snach it from his hand before he can read it.

“Damien, give that to me right now.” He threatens.

“Or what?” I ask, ripping it up and throwing the pieces at him, “There.”

He glares at me. “Who the fuck is Josiah? What the hell are you hiding?”

I need to play this cool, or else we’re fucked.

“He’s just a kid that’s been tutoring me so I don’t fail. I pay him in food.”

“Then what did the note say?” Hunter asks.

“What note?” I ask.

Hunter rolls his eyes. “You’re so difficult.”

I smile, “I know.”

Ethan is still glaring at me. “You never brought me lunch.”

“I never had to pay you for anything.”

Ethan starts eating the lunch, and I don’t stop him.

I’m glad I didn’t have time to put any facts in there this morning…

It’s not like I can take Josiah his lunch now. As long as they don’t know who he is, he’s safe…

But all it takes is them asking around, and I doubt anyone else going here is named  _ Josiah _ .

“Is that why you've been blowing us off? For some nerd?” Hunter asks.

“Not for him,”  _ 100% for him.  _ “But so that I don’t have to repeat a year of highschool. He helps me out on Wednesdays and Fridays.”

Ethan is still mad.

“What now?” I sigh, looking over at him again.

“I don’t like it. You’re blowing us off for him.”

“ _ Not for  _ **_him_ ** .”

“Well, I still don’t like it.”

I shrug, “Too bad.”

Hunter looks at me, wide-eyed. 

I usually just give up fighting at this point and do what he wants.

But I'm not giving up Josiah.

“You better watch what you say, Cohen…” Ethan warns.

“Or what?” I ask, “I shouldn’t have to take shit from you. We’re just studying, so leave it alone.”

He looks mad, but he says nothing as he eats Josiah’s food.

I have a feeling this is going to be an issue…

But that’s for me to worry about later.

Right now, I need to fix what I fucked up with Josiah.

…

I send him a text.

Hey. My math class is having a quiz next week, can we study tonight too?

**_Josiah_** : You don’t need to. You’ll be alright.

Please? Also I’m really sorry about the other day. I want to just forget it ever happened.

That’s not what I want to do at all, but whatever it takes to get him to come over… I miss him. It’s been, like, four days since I've talked to him.

**_Josiah_** : I’m not going to forget.

I’m sorry. Then can we pretend it didn’t happen? And just, go back to the way things were? I miss you.

**_Josiah_** : I don’t know...

I really am sorry. Will you at least still come over Wednesday night? Or...do you not want to see me at all?

**_Josiah_** : That’s fine, if you want. It doesn’t really matter. Whatever you think.

I want to see you.

**_Josiah_** : Then we can talk on Wednesday.

Okay. I made you a lunch but Ethan ate it. They know I'm studying with you twice a week now, but they don’t know who you are. We need to make sure to be careful.

**_Josiah_** : Why would it matter if they knew who I was?

_ Why would it matter _ …?

They would bother him…or maybe even hurt him.

I just want you off their radar as much as possible, just in case.

**_Josiah_** : They aren’t any different than Logan or anyone. I guess the only difference is you won’t fight them if they tried to do anything. I don’t care. 

I care. g2g I’ll talk to you later.

…I really hope we can fix this.

End


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20-

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Wednesday, September 29th-

I leave the school and try to find someone in all black.

“ _Damien_.” 

"Walker." He greets.

“That’s not the right thing to say if you’re trying to make up.” I remind him.

 **I’m upset**.

 **I’m** **_scared_**.

"Sorry. Hi, Josiah. I hope your day didn't suck too hard." 

“Not enough. But okay.” 

We get into the car.

I strap my seatbelt on and stare at him. “ **Seatbelt**.”

"Okay." I hear a click. "Is that apology enough for you?"

“No.”

"Oh. _I'm sorry_?" He says again, starting the car.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” I complain.

I don’t think he understands why this is a problem.

"I'm apologizing for _the incident_."

“Which was…?”

"Me saying... _the_ **_thing_ **. I'm sorry."

“Why did you say it? I thought you wanted us to be friends.” I go on.

"I...didn't mean to say it."

“Do you really think it, though? For real? Because we can’t hang out if you do.”

Maybe I shouldn’t tell him that part. Now he’s just going to **_lie_ **.

Like he does all the time.

"No. I **don't.** "

“ **Really**? I’m serious.”

"It's not a problem. Really. I don't know why I said it."

Whether it was consciously or not, he thinks it. That’s the only reason he would say it.

“Do you usually say it for no reason even though you don’t think it?”

He sighs, "Can't we just _forget about it_ ? I’ve apologized, like, ten times. _I'm_ **_sorry_ **, okay?"

“I can’t forget it. I don’t know what to do.” 

"Just ignore it? Talk about anything else?"

I can’t stop thinking about it. 

“I don’t know what else to talk about. I’m upset.” I mutter.

"Have you ever had _cheese-it's_?"

“Stop it with the cheese!”

"No! They're so good! I had them all the time as a kid. Or goldfish crackers? **Lit**."

“I feel like you had **everything** _all the time as a kid_.”

"Yeah. I’m spoiled. My parents just do it ‘cause they feel guilty about not being around, probably."

No kidding, he’s _spoiled_...

I look out the window at all the houses passing by. 

I still can’t stop thinking of what he said…

It was almost a week ago. 

Should I be over it?

It scares me.

“...Are you afraid of anything?” I ask.

"Yeah. I'm afraid of everything."

“You’re not. You don’t seem to be afraid of hardly anything.” I argue.

I am constantly afraid. 

"I'm afraid of my _parents_. And of being in a real relationship. And of snakes."

“Your _fears_ are **dumb**. You said your parents don’t do anything. What you need is a real relationship to stop you from doing bad things with random people. And snakes are amazing.”

"They've done things before. They just… I don't know. And no. Snakes are **scary**."

“What have they done?”

"Things I can't say." He says quietly.

“I’ve told you just about everything. But you keep hiding things and lying. All the time.”

"Not all the time. I just...don't know where to start." 

“Start from the day you were born and tell me everything that’s happened since.”

"We're here. There's no time, sorry." He says, pulling into the garage.

“We have all evening.”

"No. We have to study." He says, getting out of the car.

I follow after him, into the house. 

“Right. Because we **never** talk while studying.” We do more talking than studying sometimes.

"I really don't want to talk about it." He says, stopping in front of the stairs.

I stop, too.

To bother him.

“Because you like hiding and lying.” 

"I don’t like to. It’s just easier. Would you _go_?"

“ **You** **_go_ **.”

"You first."

“ **Why**?”

"Because. Just go."

Why do I like him…?

I go up the steps, deciding to fight him on it next time instead.

“Why do I like you?” I ask him after he’s next to me again.

He laughs, "Beats me."

“You’re an asshole.”

"Thanks." He leads me into his bedroom and sits on the couch.

I stand by the couch, in front of him.

“...Why did you call me that?” I go back to the first thing he didn’t want to talk about.

I’m starting to wonder if he wants to talk to me at all.

"Josiah." He sighs.

“Don’t do it ever again.”

"I said I won't. I don't know what else you want from me."

“Call me something nice instead.” I pout.

"..." He pauses for a moment. "Beautiful." He murmurs.

“What?”

"You're beautiful." He says again, a little louder this time.

I freeze and stare blankly at him.

... **What**?

"Y-you asked." He stammers.

“Do you really think so?”

"You can tell when I'm lying. Was I lying?"

I shut myself up and sit down closely next to him.

Okay.

“Thanks.” I mumble.

"Of course. Someone should tell you that everyday. Cause it's true."

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that.” I say.

He leans back on the couch. "Neither do I."

I press my head against his shoulder. “C-Can...we start studying now?”

"I- uh. If you want. Or we can just chill…"

“You don’t want to know what I want.” I sigh.

"What do you mean?"

I raise my head to look at him. 

I’m...97% sure his eyes are really dark. Like a dark brown or a black. 

Maybe it’s more like 96%... It’s more of an assumption than anything else.

Apparently no amount of staring is going to give me an answer. 

No matter how close I get…

“Damien…” I mumble.

"Yeah?"

“What color are your eyes?”

"Brown. Like dark brown. _Boring_."

“I thought so… **_Boring_ **? How come? What color do you wish they were?”

"I don't care really. But everyone likes the pretty ones better."

“ _Pretty ones_ …?”

"Like yours." He says "Really bright and...yeah. Pretty."

I take his face between my hands. “No.”

"No?" He doesn't respond to my touch. 

I stare intently at his eyes. “No. Your eyes are pretty.” I insist.

"You can't see them." He smiles.

“I don’t need to. They’re yours. So I love them.” I say.

" _Josiah…_ I want to tell you something...I..." He stammers, almost nervously.

“What?” I shift to face him directly.

"I think I _like_ you."

“You **_think_ **?” 

"I know."

Huh?

“Okay, good.” 

I blink at him a few times, confused.

"No I mean… Nevermind."

“I have to tell you something, too.”

"Oh. What is it?"

He’s going to be so upset…

“You know when we were at the store, and we were talking about the nail polish...and you told me people would _think I’m gay_?”

"Yeah?"

“And I said that I am. But that I’ve never really liked anyone before. So I wasn’t sure… I’m pretty sure now.”

"Oh. Do you like someone then?"

“Yeah. But you said it makes me **_bad_ **.” I remind him.

"I...don't think that anymore. I was _wrong_."

“You changed your mind? You were very adamant that it was wrong.”

"Because I was lying to myself. You said I liked to lie." 

“Yeah… Whatever. I didn’t care when you said that. But then I got this really big crush on someone, and I think I might be in love with him.”

"Oh. I'm- really happy for you." He doesn't sound happy. At all.

“I’m not. I don’t know what to do. If I should tell him or not… I think he might get really mad. And, like you said, everyone at school would be all freaked out over it. I don’t know…”

"If you like someone, you should tell them."

“ **How**?”

"Just say **_I like you_ **."

“I don’t feel like that’s clear enough. Isn’t there something more...definite?”

"Kiss them. Well, _ask_ first. But then kiss them when they say yes."

“ _Ask first_? Why?”

"Because. It's _mean_ if you don't ask first."

“What if I asked and he said _no_?”

"I don't know. I've never told anyone I've liked them like _that_ before."

“Damien…” I don’t know… “I...need to talk to you about something. For real. I need to make sure you know this is serious.”

"Okay. You can tell me anything."

“Will y-you let me...kiss you?” I ask.

Because apparently that’s important. 

"What-? Yes. What do you think I mean when I said I _liked_ you."

“You want to kiss?” 

"Yeah. I want to kiss you. If I'm allowed."

I pull his face closer and kiss his lips hesitantly.

It isn’t as scary as I thought it would be…

I might cry a little.

“Oh my God…” I pull back and just stare at him again, releasing his face.

" _Oh my God_ is **_right_ **."

I feel panic rising in my chest.

“Is that okay?” I ask.

"It was perfect."

“It was scary.” I correct.

And nice…

It was a weird mixture of horrifying and delightful.

"You didn't like it?"

“I don’t… I like it. I’m scared.”

"Of what?" He asks.

I’m not sure.

“Kisses.” I shrug.

"They're not scary. They're nice. When they're with you."

“They’re **_nicer_ ** when they’re with you…” I murmur, “It was too much.”

I sigh and just bury myself against his side.

"Too much? It was just a kiss. It doesn't matter."

I shake my head. “Just hugs. Hug me.” 

He hesitantly puts his arms around me.

“...I have a lot of feelings for you.” I tell him.

"What kind of feelings?"

“Intense ones.”

"What does that _mean_?"

“I don’t know. I hear your voice and I want to listen to you talk forever. And I’m always so scared and confused, but everything gets better when I can touch you to know you’re here. Then you bring me home and I just miss you.” 

"Wow. That is **_intense_ **."

“That’s why I called them _intense feelings_ , yeah.” 

"I like being with you, too."

“Is it bad though? The _intense feelings_ thing. Is that normal? Is it okay?”

"Yeah. I feel that, too. I never want to take you home. I just wish I could protect you from everything. And...be with you. All the time."

“What’s the difference between this and being friends? Because I think it feels different, but… I don’t know why.” 

"Kissing. Holding Hands. Dating. It's just falling in love I think…"

“We were already _holding hands_ …and _dating_ ? Are we supposed to be **_dating_ **?” 

"It depends. Do you want to be my _friend_ , or my _boyfriend_?"

“I told you I hardly know what the difference is. Do we have to go on dates? What do people even do on dates?” 

"Talk to each other. Watch movies, go out to eat. That's what dates are. Just spending time one on one together."

“...Do you want to?”

"Yes. I have for a while."

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier, then?”

"I didn't think you liked me like that. I didn't want to mess anything up."

“You could have assumed. I made it pretty obvious. If those are dates, then we’ve already been dating.”

"Not officially. And the issue with school and my parents…it would be really hard to be together like that… I had to decide if it was worth it."

I back off just enough to look at him. “You decided it was worth it? Why?”

"Because I didn't want to imagine my life without you."

“Alright… Makes sense.” I smile at him.

"I...really liked kissing you."

“We can try to do it more… I’m just worried.”

"About what? It's not hard."

“About you doing something. Or only liking me because you like kissing me… That’s why I didn’t like when you said _sexy_. It’s scary and bad.”

"Why is it bad? And I like you for _you._ Not for kissing. I like how you make me feel."

“Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?”

"No. I meant you make me feel like maybe...I can be a good person. Or that life doesn't suck so fucking much."

“That’s not how people usually feel with me. It’s actually the complete opposite most of the time.”

"It shouldn't be. You deserve for people to care about you."

“I had someone who cared, but I stressed her out. I’m not good for people.”

"You’re good with me. That's all I care about."

“If I’m bad, will you leave me?"

"No. Why would I do that?"

“I don’t want to stress you. If I don’t listen, if I’m bad...just leave me. Don’t get stressed. If you won’t leave if I’m bad for you, I will.”

"Hey. You don't need to worry about me, okay? It will be fine. You never answered my question."

“I have to worry about you. Especially when you say you won’t leave me,” I tell him, before hugging him again, “What question?”

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

“Yes. _Always_ , forever...but I want you to be happy.”

"You make me happy. I haven't been this happy in a really long time."

“Me neither… I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy… I-I don’t know. At least not since I was really little.” 

"Maybe we could be happy now."

“Only when we are together.” 

"Yeah." He hugs me tighter. "Only when we're together." He confirms.

“We should be together more.” I suggest.

"When? I see you like three times a week."

“Every day.”

He laughs, "I really wish we could."

“Please? I want to be happy.”

"I...we can't. It's not that easy."

“Because of your parents?”

"They won't like that I’m with you. No one will."

“When you move out, can I come with you?”

"Yeah. We can be _roommates_."

“Okay. When?”

"When I graduate? I’m leaving here as soon as possible."

That’s good enough. 

“Okay…” I say again, “...Do you think we should study today? Or can we just stay here?” 

"It's up to you."

“I want to take a nap. But you’re a dumb-ass who needs to study so you can graduate and move out.” I grin.

"We can take a quick nap. We have plenty of time. When do you have to be home?"

“I don’t really know. I was just told to _be home by_ **_bedtime_ **.” 

"Well, I think we can take, like, an hour nap. What do you think?"

“Okay. _Goodnight_.” I rest my head against him and close my eyes.

" _Night_."

I fall asleep against him within minutes.

I don’t know _why_ or **_how_ **I trust him so much...

End


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21–

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Friday October 1st-

I can't believe that Josiah is actually…

_ My boyfriend _ .

And we… _ kissed _ .

Oh my God, **_we kissed_ ** .

And then I proceeded to panic the entire fucking time.

Because  _ oh my God, we kissed. _

And it was the best thing I'd ever done.

But, as fun as it is, we still have to ignore each other at school.

And my parents will never be able to know.

To the rest of the world, we're not together.

It kind of bugs me, but it's better than losing everyone else.

But on Friday, I decided to say _ fuck it  _ and go somewhere fun. 

I'm tired of just worrying all the time that we'll get caught…

I don't know who it would be worse to get caught by, my parents or Hunter and Ethan.

Either way, let's hope it doesn't come down to that.

I wait by the car at the end of day.

Josiah joins me at the car in a maroon sweater I don't remember seeing until now.

"Nice sweater."

“Thanks. Nice band t-shirt.”

I laugh. "Thanks. So here's the deal." I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets. "We're not studying today."

“Are we hugging instead? Because that’s fun.”

"Yes. But first we're going to the store to rent a movie and get ice cream. Because  _ date _ ."

I'll never get over calling it that..

I giggle. "Cause you're my  _ boyfriend _ . And I like you."

“What  _ movie _ ? _ Ice cream _ ?  _ DATE _ ?” 

"I don't know what movie, yes ice cream and yes DATE." I smile. "Let’s go."

I get in the car and he follows after shortly.

“Since we’re  _ dating _ , can we always hold hands?” 

Umm.

"In public?"

“Not at school, but, like...in other places.” 

"I don't know…."

I look over at his impossibly big blue eyes…

Shit.

I can't say  _ no _ .

"I mean as long as we're careful, I don't see why not…" I murmur.

“Thank you! Now I don’t have to be scared around people.” He smiles at me sweetly.

My heart melts a little. "Of course."

…

When we get to the store, as soon as I get out of the car, he's beside me, holding his hand out expectantly.

I look around. It's not super busy.

If anyone from school saw us…

No. I'm just being paranoid.

I take his hand hesitantly and he smiles.

“Thanks, Damien. You don’t realize how happy you make me.”

"You're welcome. What ice cream do you want tonight?"

“Any ice cream. I haven’t really had much ice cream in, like...ten years.”

Jesus Christ.

"My favorite is cookies and cream, so I guess that."

I pull him inside the store. "Oh. We need dinner too. Any ideas?"

“ _ Ice cream _ isn’t  _ dinner… _ ?”

"No. Ice cream is a snack. Think of something else."

“Pizza…?!”

"Sure. That sounds fine to me." I smile down at our intertwined hands, remembering when we were last here, to get his glasses.

It seems like a lifetime ago…

“Awesome. Let’s try a different kind.” He says.

"Pineapple pizza."

“Okay."

We pick up the pizza and then go to the ice cream.

"Look. There’s a whole bunch of choices…" I start reading them off, "Chocolate swirl, brownie, cookie dough, strawberry, cookies and cream…"

“Damien.”

"Caramel…salted caramel…."

“Shut up and grab one or I will.”

"Dude. They have Sour Patch Kids ICE CREAM?! What has the world come to?!"

“I’m going to get one,” He opens the freezer and pulls out a random carton, “Here.”

I take it. " _ Vanilla _ . Oh my God… That's so  **_boring_ ** ."

“No, it’s not.  **You’re** **_boring_ ** .”

"Can we get, like, strawberry banana, or something weird?"

“I picked one. Shush.”

I groan. "But yours sucks."

“ _ You suck _ . Let’s check out.” He starts pulling on my hand.

"Why are you in such a rush?" I laugh, not moving at all despite his pulling.

“ _ Jeez, Josiah, why are you in such an rush to eat ice cream and pizza and have hugs _ ?” He mocks in a deep voice. 

I laugh, "Okay. Fine." I relent and we check out, stopping at the Redbox before we go.

"What kind of movie do you want?"

“Do you want me to pick out a random one again? Come on…” He whines.

"Let me PICK. You got the boring ice cream."

I look around a bit, and the longer I take, the more frustrated he gets, which makes me go slower…

Haha.

I finally settle on a Rom-Com that actually looked really cute. I'll admit I like the occasional Hallmark movie. What can I say? They’re cute.

"Okay, we can go now." I tell him.

“You take too long to pick things. You’re going to need to work on that.”

"Nope. Not happening. I want to make the right choice. You're just impatient. It literally took five minutes max."

I lead him out to the car and sit our bags in the back.

“You keep asking me what I want, then when I pick, you complain.” He says.

"No! I only complained the one time."

I start us toward home.

“ **Bullshit** ! You complain almost every time!” 

"Nu-uh! When other than the ice cream did I complain?" I look over at him expectantly.

“You complain nearly every single time I pick what to have for dinner. You’re always like,  _ no that is kid’s food _ , or,  _ that isn’t real food _ . Or  _ we can’t have pizza every day _ . You do that all the time.” 

…Damn.

"Yeah… You're right. But in my defense, I'm right, so…" I stick my tongue out at him, then remember that he's blind, "Oh. I stuck my tongue out at you, by the way."

“...Why?”

"To be dumb?"

“You’re always  _ dumb _ .”

"I'm aware. You tell me everyday."

“I don’t! My job is literally to convince you that you’re  **_smart_ ** !”

"Then why do you say I’m dumb literally all the time? Some job. I should  _ fire _ you." I laugh.

His eyes go wide. “I’ll stop. I’m just joking.”

"I was, too. I can't fire you. You actually taught me stuff. Plus, I like you, so…"

“You scared me. Without  _ tutoring _ , we are nothing.”

"Um… We're  **boyfriends.** " I giggle. "I like saying that."

“I said it and I meant it.  _ Strictly business _ , remember?” He shoots me that smile again. 

God. I would do anything to make him happy…

"Right. Ice cream is  _ business _ . I forgot."

“Don’t say it that way. I’ll feel guilty and then I won’t be able to have it. Ice cream **is** _business_.” 

"Sorry. It's business." 

He'd really quit seeing me if it wasn't for the tutoring, wouldn't he?

“All of it is. Then it’s okay.”

I guess so…

...

When we get home, I put the pizza in the oven, the ice cream in the freezer for later and I take Josiah upstairs, making sure to set an alarm for the pizza on my phone so I don't burn the fucking house down.

As soon as I put the DVD in, he opens his arms wide. "Hug time?"

"We'll have to get the pizza in ten minutes, but sure,” I hug him tightly, “There."

I rest my chin on his head and he snuggles closer to me.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to get used to this.

It seems too perfect.

“Wanna try the kissing thing again?” He asks.

I pull away just enough to see him.

"Sure."

I push the hair out of his eyes and then lean down and give him a soft kiss.

I pull away and he blinks up at me.

"Good?"

“...We’ll try again next time.” He mumbles.

"...So  _ no _ ?"

This is so frustrating. 

“ _ Not yet _ . Be optimistic.” 

All I want to do is push him down on that bed and…

But  **_no_ ** .

I want to do this right.

I hug him close again. At least we can touch some now…

“I’m surprised the hugging is nice.” He cuddles up closer to me again.

"I'm glad. I really like it. Do you want to start the movie and pause when the pizza is done?"

“Yup. Sure.”

I let go of him and sit down on the couch.

He sits beside me and I start the movie.

"Hey." I say to him.

“What?”

"You're cute."

His face turns red and he immediately hides behind his hands. “Damien…” He whines.

I laugh. "Hey, Josiah, guess what?"

“You’re psychotic.”

"Nope.  _ You're  _ **_cute_ ** ." I tell him again. 

“I’m going to cry now.”

"No?"

“What do you mean  _ no _ ? You’re being nice and I’m going to cry.”

"I don't want you to cry. Then  _ I'll _ cry. And then we'll both be a mess."

“I’m okay with that.”

"Why would you cry? Did I do something wrong?"

What did I fuck up now?

“You are being too nice.” There are actual tears in his eyes.

"I'm… _ being too nice _ ? Uh… Would a hug help? I don't know what to do.”

“Simple. **_Stop being too nice_**.”

"No…? Just stop crying."

“I physically cannot do that.”

"Are they good tears or bad tears?"

“I don’t know. You being nice makes me happy but it also makes me think of the bad things.”

"I'm...sorry. But I'm not going to quit being nice. You mean so much to me, you deserve to be treated nicely. Whether you believe it or not."

I look at his tear filled eyes and ask, "Can I hug you? I'm sorry I made you cry."

“Yeah.” He opens his arms for me again.

I pull him in close, and rub his back slowly. 

"Hey. Why don't we start the movie and get some pizza? It should be close to done. Does that sound okay?"

“Yes. Play it.”

…

-Monday, October 4th-

Everything’s been amazing with Josiah since then.

He came over on Saturday, too, since my parents weren't home, and we  _ studied. _

Whatever it takes to make him feel better about it, I guess.

And on Saturday night, I went to a party with Ethan and Hunter, because I know they've been really on edge about the whole  _ tutoring  _ thing.

So I went, but obviously, I didn't take a girl home. I just left after Ethan and Hunter found people and were… _ preoccupied _ .

They didn't even notice I was gone.

To be honest, I don’t know why they think they need me at stuff like this, it's not like we hang out much at all.

I usually end up drunk as  _ fuck _ and then with a girl two or three hours in anyway.

This whole  _ partying  _ thing is  _ stupid _ .

But it’s better to just do it and not make waves.

I was already pushing it the other day at lunch.

By the time Monday rolled around, I was pretty confident everything was going to work out…

Needless to say, I was really  **FUCKING** wrong.

I texted Josiah all day through classes and stuff.

He doesn't ever respond while he's in class, but that doesn't stop me from bothering him anyway.

When I sat down at lunch, I really wished I could sit with him instead.

I took him his lunch before Ethan and Hunter got there, not that it matters because they know I bring him food now, but like I said, I'm trying not to make waves. 

But I’m sure they know who he is by now.

Ethan would have made sure of it.

It's only a matter of time before they try to approach him…

And I still don't know what I'll do when that happens.

I've been worrying ever since we've started dating way more now than I have before, which is saying something.

It's getting hard to sleep at night, and it's gotten to the point that after I take Josiah home, I drink until it’s enough to shut off my brain and I can pass out.

But it's getting really exhausting, all of this.

But the way I feel when we're together?

Worth it.

The school day passes quickly, and I convinced Josiah to come study again tonight…

Maybe, if I'm lucky, we'll kiss again…

I wonder why he's so nervous about all that shit.

I mean, he says he's never been with anyone else before, so it could be that.

I wait for him, leaning against my car like I always do, when I finally see him leave the building.

As he approaches, I say, "Are you ready for the most studying you've ever done in your entire life? I’m talking more flashcards than you can count."

“I don’t think you realize how much studying I do, Damien.”

…Fair enough.

"Well, more flashcards than I can count, which will be, like, fifteen."

“ _ Fifteen _ ? Wow.”

"I know. It’s crazy that numbers just end after fifteen, isn't it?” I laugh.

“Right. And how old are you again?”

" _ Fifteen plus three _ .  **_Duh_ ** ."

“...I mean, I’m just glad you know what  _ fifteen plus three _ is. Good job.” 

"I'm not  _ that _ stupid." I smile at him.

Before I can tell him to get in the car, someone calls my name.

" **Cohen** ! Don't you dare leave yet."

Jesus Christ…

I turn and see Ethan, Hunter, and...Logan Haas?

Ethan looks furious. 

Shit. I have to get Josiah out of here.

“What’s going on…?” Josiah asks.

"Josiah. You never fucking listen to me, but Ethan and Hunter are on their way over and they look PISSED. Get in the car and stay in there," I shove the keys in his hand, "Lock it behind you."

“Why? Are you guys going to yell a lot?”

"It doesn't matter.  **Go** ." I say forcefully.

I don't want to have to yell or anything, but if it gets him to safety…

“Um… Okay.” He hesitantly gets into the car.

I hear the locks click as they approach me.

"Hey, guys!" I say, hoping to stop whatever the fuck this is, "Are we just letting anyone walk around with us now?" I say, gesturing to Logan.

I hate him.

They look mad. Except Logan, who has a smug smile on his face.

Uh oh.

"What the fuck is  _ this _ , Damien?" Hunter says, shoving his phone in my face.

"Well, I can't see it when you hold it that close, dipshit." I say, taking it from him and looking at it.

It's…a picture of me and Josiah at the store the other day.

Holding hands.

"Where did you…?" I start as he rips the phone away from me.

"You said it was  **_tutoring_ ** ? What the fuck is  **_this_ ** ? Is he your  **_boyfriend_ ** ?" Ethan taunts.

...They were bound to catch us eventually…

I was just hoping we would have more time than this…

"So what if he is?" I mutter, "Why the fuck would it matter? It’s not the fucking 1900s. What, are you going to  _ lynch _ him?"

DAMN. I've been studying too much.

“Don’t you realize what that makes  _ you _ ?” Logan laughs. 

...Oh.

"It shouldn't matter what it makes me." I say angrily.

"Damien, I'm going to give you a choice here. I shouldn't, after all of the lying and sneaking around you've been doing, but I’m going to let you off easier. Because you're my  _ friend _ . You’re like a brother to us." Ethan says, gesturing to Hunter.

_ Friend _ ?!

"So," He continues, "If you just break up with him and stop all of this bullshit, maybe we can work something out. Okay?"

"Stop  _ all of this _ ? Stop  **what** ? Stop  **_liking_ ** him? You want me to just go back to how things were? And don't you dare say we're  _ friends _ !  _ Friends _ don't boss each other around all the time, and act like they're some sort of fucking dictator over everyone else!"

Logan laughs, watching all this play out.

Piece of shit.

"Why the fuck are you even here, asshole?" I ask him.

“I knew from the start that something was up between you guys. I’m just glad I was right.” He explains. 

Hunter glares at Logan then looks back at me.

"Look, Damien. We don't want to have to fight...just, give this up."

"No! I'm tired of taking all your bullshit. This isn't a friendship. And if you're smart, Hunter, you would leave, too!"

"After everything I've done for you, you're going to just give it all up for some bitch?"

That's it…

"Yes," I sigh, "I am. The question is, what are you guys going to do about it?"

Hunter looks at the ground. "You know what we're going to do about it."

Shit.

I put my hands up. "Alright, then. Let's do this."

With the three of them, there's not a chance in hell I'll win.

But I'm not going down without a fight.

I asked for this…

Ethan attacks me first. I shove him away, but as soon as I do, Hunter hits me in the mouth, and I stagger backwards, falling back against the car.

I'm sure it scares the shit out of Josiah… But as long as he stays in the car, he'll be fine.

Ethan grabs me by the front of my shirt and slams me into the car again, my head slamming against it.

I see stars, and everything goes a bit fuzzy.

I swing blindly, a few of my hits making contact, but it doesn't take long for the three of them to over power me.

It wasn’t a fair fight in the first place.

They keep hitting and pushing and shoving and it's so, so weird to be on this side of things.

I keep trying my best to fight them, but after a while of this, I can't take it anymore.

It's all just blinding pain at this point.

I fall to the ground at some point, and from far away, I hear Hunter say, "C'mon guys. We've done enough…"

I pull myself into a sitting position against my car.

Ethan crouches down beside me and says, "You're done at this school. Do you hear me?!"

"Whatever, asshole." I say, turning and spitting out blood from whoever the fuck hit me in the mouth.

He hits me again, and before I can realize, they're going to come back for another round.

Hunter puts a stop to it.

"C’mon, guys. Let’s not waste our time."

After that, they must leave, because the hitting stops.

I slowly pull myself to my feet, and almost fall back onto the pavement.

I steady myself against the car and go to the driver’s side.

I try to open the door, but it’s locked.

Oh.

I lean down and look into the window, knocking on it.

Josiah has his knees pulled to his chest, and looks like he's freaking the fuck out.

Great.

I knock again, and this time, he hears me.

He whips his head around and leans over, running his hand along the car door and somehow finding the button to roll down the window. He pushes it and opens the window just a crack.

"Can you let me in? They all left." I say.

“...Want the key?”

"Can you unlock it first? It's the button right by the one you just pushed." I lean against the car, my legs wanting to buckle beneath me.

He feels around again, and after a bit, I hear it unlock.

I open the door and fall into my seat.

“Are you okay?”

"No. Are you?"

“No. Was that Logan?”

"If it was just Logan, I could have beat the shit out of him. It was Hunter, Ethan and Logan. Logan saw us...holding hands yesterday. And he took a picture and sent it to Ethan and...they didn't like it. So they beat the shit out of me and here we are." I lean my head back in my seat.

Everything hurts...

“I could tell it was Ethan and Hunter… You said it was then. Why didn’t you just get in the car and leave?”

"Because it would have happened now or later. Might as well get it over with. Although, knowing Ethan, this is far from over…” I laugh bitterly, "At least I can sit with you at lunch."

It's safer at this point to stick together…

“No… You can’t. If Alexa and Avery saw you being nice, they would say something. To us, or to Aunt Dahlia.”

Oh.

I groan, shutting my eyes. "Why can’t anything ever be easy?"

“You were aware...when this started.”

"I know. I just… It  _ shouldn't _ be this way."

“You say that a lot. It’s just  _ life _ , Damien.”

I don't want to drive home. I just want to pass out and forget all of this happened.

Pretend everything's okay, and that, when I wake up, it will still be okay.

I feel tears come to my eyes. "Well, it shouldn't be." I say bitterly, taking the keys from him and starting the car.

...But it is.

…

As soon as Josiah and I get back to the house, I almost fall through the doorway.

I need to sit down or something.

Josiah puts a hand on my arm, as if he could steady me.

I would just crush him…

“You need to go lay down.”

I nod, then remind myself that he’s blind, and I mutter, "Yeah, probably."

Before I can move from the doorway I’m leaning in, Pierre walks out of the kitchen.

"Damien! Josiah! It's about time! Did you go somewhere after…" He stops as he sees me, "What the hell happened?" He asks, rushing over to me.

"I got my ass handed to me.  **_Duh_ ** ." 

He rolls his eyes. "By  _ who _ ? What's going on?" 

He helps me upstairs and Josiah follows behind us silently.

"Remember Ethan and Hunter? My  _ friends _ from school?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "The ones I repeatedly told you not to hang out with? Yeah. I remember."

I laugh and then grimace.

It hurts. 

"Yeah. Them. They saw me and Josiah holding hands and then beat the shit out of me."

Pierre sighs as he leads me to the bed and has me sit down. "I'll go get you some pain reliever… Do you need anything, Josiah?"

“ _ Do you need anything? _ ” He repeats, “Just fix him.” 

Pierre nods and leaves.

I go to lean over and take my boots off, but it’s not happening.

I just decide on slipping my jacket off and laying back on the bed, groaning as I do so.

Josiah hesitantly sits on the edge of the bed, as far away from me as possible.

“Are you going to go to sleep…?” He asks.

"I don't know. Probably not."

It’s all I want to do, but I doubt I can actually fall asleep. "I still have to take you home later."

“Or...should we just have Pierre take me home now? I don’t know why I’m here.”

"I don't want you to go…" I say softly, turning to look over at him.

He's sitting with his legs crisscrossed, fiddling with the edges of his sleeves, staring at his hands.

"I'm sorry. I should have taken you home." I say softly.

He looks over at me. “No, I needed to make sure you’re okay. I just can’t stay  _ here _ .” 

I sigh. "I know...at least you don't have to complain about me going out and partying anymore."

“You’re going to stop? I’m sure there’s parties where no one you know will be at.”

"I hated them. I only went because they wanted me to. I guess I don’t have to smoke pot anymore either." 

“You…  _ What _ ?”

I shrug, "I never did it on my own but they always got it from… Nevermind. The point is, it's over. All the stupid shit they made me do. I just wish your goddamn cousins weren't at this school. Then we could be together."

“They’ll be leaving soon. With the condition their father was in, I can’t believe he hasn’t finally died yet.” 

"Oh. I'm sorry?" Is all I say. I mean, it's his uncle, but from the way he's mentioned him, I’m assuming he hates him as much as everyone else.

“Sorry for who? No one liked him. He did a lot of stuff my dad did, but he wasn’t charming with people...ever. And he drank a lot. I’m glad it’s finally coming back around to him.”

Harsh.

But he does sound like an ass, so who am I to judge?

"I guess so." I say, trying my best to keep my eyes open. 

“Yeah… Considering what he’s done to me, I don’t even want to think about what he did to his wife, and Alexa and Avery. That’s why I tell you not to blame them for anything. They’re doing the best they can.”

_ I guess so… _

I still can’t forgive them for being mean to him.

But I don't think I can forgive anyone for that. Especially  _ myself _ .

Before I can respond, I hear the door open and I sit up quickly.

My entire body protests with pain and I almost fall back over.

I put a hand on my head and try to blink away the fuzziness.

If my parents saw us in bed together, even just sitting…

"Relax, Damien. It's just me." Pierre says, giving me a cup of water and some pills.

"Could you take Josiah home? Whenever he wants to go?"

Pierre nods and I quickly down the pills, giving him back the water. "Of course. I'll be in the kitchen when he's ready. Get some rest, Damien."

I hear the door click shut behind him and I lay back down slowly, hating every second of it.

“Can I help...at all?” Josiah asks softly.

"Just...talk to me." I don't want to be alone with my head right now. 

“ _ About… _ ? Any preference?”

I shut my eyes. "I don't care. But can I hold your hand?" I ask, putting my hand out.

I just need him.

“No.”

...Right.

I put my hand down slowly. "Okay. Sorry."

“Do you want to hear about what happened during English class today?”

"I would  _ love _ to hear about what happened in English class today…" I murmur, shutting my eyes.

“It was, like, five minutes into class and the teacher said  _ I give up _ . And he went and sat in one of the desks. So Evan Thompson got up and went to the front of the class and started teaching everyone about the entire plot to all Star Wars movies. Everyone called him a geek, but it was actually interesting.”

"What a guy." I say quietly, hardly listening.

“Yeah, he’s cool. I would hang out with him if I could. I can’t believe the teacher just gave up, though. I don’t think they’re allowed to do that…” He rambles.

Before I can hear the rest of it, I'm passing out.

E N D


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22-

Josiah’s P.O.V. 

-Tuesday, October 5th-

“Are you feeling better?” I ask Damien as soon as I sit down in his car.

I like being picked up to go to school. It makes things a lot easier.

I don’t think I was made to get up at 5 a.m.

"A little. I pretty much just slept until this morning," He yawns, "I got some cool bruises, though."

“What are you going to do today? Avoid everyone?”

"I have no fucking idea. I guess so. Not that it will work."

“Okay… Just be careful.” I tell him.

He starts driving toward the school.

"I'll try my best. And you, too. They know who you are now. So please, I’m serious. Text me if any of them approach you. It doesn't matter anymore."

“I can’t do that. You’ll fight with them again.”

"So what? If I have to fight, I have to fight."

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

"Josiah, it doesn't matter. I don’t want you to get hurt. And, if it's only one of them, I can beat the shit out of them anyway,” He holds something out to me, “Here.”

I doubt it.

I don’t bother looking at what he’s handing me.

“No, because you’re already hurt,” I argue, just taking it, “If Ethan approaches me, I’ll call you. Or just start violently screaming. Okay?”

It’s a bag. 

Lunch. 

I stuff it into my backpack for later.

"I'm fine. Really. And as for the  _ screaming _ ...as funny as it would be, just call."

“Okay, but your phone shouldn’t be on during class. So if it’s during class, I will do the screaming thing.” I plan, smiling at him.

"Josiah. You’re telling me you’re going to get cornered by Ethan, then check the time and make sure I'm not in class, then call me?"

“Pretty much, yeah. Or start screaming. One or the other.”

"I might not be able to hear you."

“Have you heard me scream before…?”

"Yes. It's very loud."

“Right. Are you deaf?”

"No. But its not fucking  _ go through brick walls _ loud."

“I will scream very loud. My house is made of brick. I think I know what I’m talking about here.”

"Just call and scream through the phone."

“I might as well call and say,  _ hey, umm… Damien. So, basically, Ethan is here and he’s being an ass _ . That would serve the same purpose at that point.”

"But I thought you wanted to scream?" He parks the car.

“No. Screaming hurts. I will only do that if it’s an emergency,” I say, “I’ll call you if Ethan does something. Promise.”

"Thank you. I guess I'll see you to take you home tonight?"

“Yeah. Bye.” I open the door.

"See ya." He says, getting out, too.

…

I read the dinosaur fact, which is something about how birds are dinosaurs, basically. 

It says,  _ so dinosaurs aren’t extinct! I thought this one would make you happy _ , at the bottom. 

The fact itself doesn’t matter so much. I already know all of this stuff, and I have known this stuff for as long as I can remember. But he’s doing this for no other reason than to make me happy, and so it does. It makes me very happy for a moment.

“What’s that?” Avery asks as she sits down.

“Dinosaurs aren’t extinct.” I say, setting the bag down beside me.

I guess I am not eating lunch today. That’s okay.

“Um? Yes, they are.” She laughs.

“Your imagination is wild, Josiah.” Alexa remarks.

“No, dinosaurs’ descendants are reptiles, and birds have been around for a very,  _ very _ long time. Because those are alive today, it’s kind of like dinosaurs still exist. Next time you see something that shares traits with a dinosaur, realize that it is basically a dinosaur.” I tell them.

“Bullshit.” Alexa says.

“No. It’s true.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“Yeah, so?”

She starts eating her food, and Avery does, too. They’re stupid. And annoying.

But I can’t talk to Damien about this, because obviously he already knows. After all, he is the one who wrote the fact down.

“Hey, Walker.”

I turn my head up.

_ Logan… _ ?

“What?” I ask.

“Who are these girls?” He asks.

...What the hell?

“Why are you over here?”

“I’m Alexa. This is Avery. We’re sitting here because Josiah is our cousin.” 

She made sure to let him know she wasn’t necessarily sitting with me willingly.

“Nice to meet you,” He says, “Josiah, come with me for a minute.”

Why does he sound so calm?

“No. It’s in your best interest to go away. Damien told me to call him if anyone bothers me.” I warn.

“Shut up. I don’t feel threatened by your dumb-ass boyfriend.” 

Okay…

I can’t let Alexa and Avery hear this.

I grab my stuff and get up. “Whatever. Let’s go talk.”

He gets up, too.

“Josiah, what the hell is going on?” Alexa cuts in.

“I don’t know,” I look up at Logan, “Alright, fine.”

He leads me out of the cafeteria. 

He’s the only bully who can do this so easily between and during classes. Most people out in the halls get in trouble.

Not him. Because of his relation with the principal.

“...What do you want?” I ask when he stops walking.

“You and Cohen…  _ What the fuck? _ ”

“ _ What the fuck _ about it?” 

“I don’t know. It’s weird. I didn’t think he was…”

“Are you going to beat me up, or can I just leave?” I cut him off when he starts mumbling.

He grabs my sweater and shoves me against the wall. “You really fucked things up for him, you know? You ruined his life by getting rid of his friends.” 

“I know. They weren’t  _ friends _ , though. They were  _ assholes _ , like you.”

“And like him. You don’t think he’s going to hurt you? The whole time he’s gone to this school, he just beats up kids like you.”

“I don’t think he’s going to do things like that anymore.” 

“Why not? You know, I feel like right now is a good time to let the school know about all the shit he does.” 

“ **Why** ?” 

“Just to  _ fuck with him _ , I guess.” He repeats after what Damien said about him. 

“Leave him alone.”

He slams me back again. “Don’t argue with me, little bitch…” He mutters.

“I don’t need to listen to you.” 

“Maybe if you start listening to me, then I won’t bother Damien anymore. Is that a deal?”

“Why would I make a deal with you? I don’t know what you’re planning to make me do.”

“Do you really like him?”

“Yeah. Of course. I love him.”

“Okay, then just agree and we’ll talk later. Why do you need to know details if you love him?” 

...I mean, I guess so.

“Okay.” 

“What? Really?” He sounds surprised.

“I don’t see a point in fighting against it. You already said why.” 

Anything is worth it to keep Damien safe. 

Maybe he could get Ethan and Hunter to start being nice to him again…

“Um… Good. You just...usually don’t listen to anyone.”

“Right. Congratulations.” 

“Thanks…” He mutters, “I need to see your phone.”

I pull it out and hand it over.

It’s kind of funny how he is so surprised.

He is silent for a moment before handing it back. “Alright. Want a ride home tonight?”

“...No?” I say.

“Too bad.” 

He leaves immediately after, without any explanation. 

I…

Feel like…

I may have made a mistake.

I send Damien a text.

I guess I don’t need you to take me home after school today. 

**_Damien_** : What? Why not?

I don't know. I’ll explain when I figure it out.

**_Damien_** : Okay. Just be careful. Whatever you’re doing.💙

Alright. I love you 

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

**_Damien_** : 💙💙💙💙

Cute.

I like the heart thing. I’m glad we do it. 

I wish we were at home cuddling right now…

_ Home _ ?

His house.

...No. I’m calling it  _ home _ . It’s nicer that way. 

I lean back against the wall. 

Being shoved around hurts the bruises on my shoulder…

I don’t like getting hurt.

...

“What’s your address?” Logan asks, grabbing me after school.

I pull my arm away from him immediately. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know where you live?” 

His tone is always so nasty. Someone should punch him a few times and teach him how to shut up… 

Damien tried. 

“No. I don’t.”

“Can you  **ask** anyone? What the fuck?”

“Yeah. I can  **_ask_ ** Damien. If that’s okay.”

He would know. I bet he’s already left, and if not, I’m pretty sure he would have an issue with this anyway.

“I’m waiting. Do it now.”

I get my phone out and text Damien.

Hey. What’s my house address?

He replies a minute later with the address, and I turn my phone to show Logan.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask again, watching him unlock his car. 

“If you keep asking that, I’m going to hit you. Do you want to protect your boyfriend, or what?” 

“Of course I do.”

“Then get in the car.”

I get in at the passengers side, and he gets into the driver's seat.

This is weird. And immensely uncomfortable.

My phone buzzes with another text, so I check in immediately.

Damien.

**_Damien_** : Who's taking you home?

Don’t worry about it. 👍 I’ll explain once I figure it out.

  
  


**_Damien_** : Okay. Please be careful...you mean a lot to me.

I’m always careful. 

**_Damien_** : Be extra careful

Okay, no problem. You stay safe too! No more nice texts for the night. I’m heading home so gotta delete all of them. I’ll see you tomorrow. 💛💛💛

**_Damien_** : See you then 💙💙💙💙

I begin deleting the texts, hearing the car start up.

“What are you doing?” Logan questions.

“Deleting texts.”

“Why? From who?”

“Damien.”

“Are you guys sexting? You’re so fucking weird and gross.”

I manage to ignore him somehow, which I’m sure pisses him off. 

Whatever. He hasn’t asked anything from me aside from putting his number into my phone and driving me home.

This must be some big, elaborate plan. This part just feels dumb.

I’m not going to worry about it yet.

He drives me to my house in silence. 

“...Is this it?” He asks as he parks his car.

I don’t bother to look around.

“Yeah.” I say, opening the car door and unbuckling.

He didn’t wear his seatbelt, I think. But I don’t care.

“I’m going to message you. Every question I ask, you better answer them honestly, or I’ll beat the shit out of you and help Ethan get his hands on Damien.” He warns.

“O...kay? I got it. Whatever.” I get out and shut the door.

I can’t believe he actually just brought me home…

Maybe this elaborate scheme is so they can get my trust. I’m never going to trust anyone, though. Just Damien.

Damien is safe. Damien will protect me as much as he can.

As long as I tell him what’s going on…

Which I’m not.

I’m almost positive this is bad and I started something here by letting Logan do this shit.

But Damien will fix it as soon as it becomes too much.

There’s nothing to be afraid of.

End


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23-

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Wednesday, October 6th-

Josiah got someone else to drive him home yesterday.

I texted him and asked if he wanted me to pick him up this morning, and he said _ yeah _ .

I guess whoever took him home yesterday was a one time thing, but it didn’t stop me from worrying about him late last night, along with worrying about the rest of the school shit going on.

I’m still sore from the beatdown they gave me a few days ago, and the bruising is still really predominant. The worst being my black eye, because everyone sees it and either winces, looks away, or usually a combination of the two.

I’ll be alright in a week or so. Nothing permanently damaging...as long as I don't get caught by all three of them again.

Just in case, I started carrying my knife to school.

I don’t want to have to use it, but if worse comes to worse, I might have to.

I never used to take it to school, because if you get caught with a weapon, you could not only get expelled, you could get the cops called on you.

And the last thing I need are some cops investigating me or my family.

School yesterday was…so  _ weird _ .

I didn’t talk to one person the whole time.

I just kept my head down and took notes in my classes, using my now empty lunch period to sneak my food into the library and study while I ate. 

I don’t know why Josiah never did that, because it’s really quiet and nice there.

I’m sure he has his reasons.

And the other day…when he texted that he loved me…

And I didn’t say it back…

I hope he didn’t notice that either.

I...I really like him, but I don’t know…

We’ve only known each other for a couple months.

Granted, I’ve seen him like everyday for the past couple months, but  _ still _ .

He gets in the car and I hand him the lunch that Pierre made him and I put notes in.

“Good morning.” I smile at him, despite my exhaustion.

I missed him…

“Morning! I missed you. I don’t like Tuesdays.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t like them either. Especially with how sore I was from the other day. And I missed you, too. Really.”

I did my training and acted as if nothing was wrong. But my dad could tell. So he said Thursday, we’re going to work on the actual business side of things.

Because he wants me to start getting more involved with that side of things. He said maybe I’d even start going on business trips with them on the weekends.

I don’t want to.

I would rather spend the weekends with Josiah.

The more and more I see of this side of the business, the more I hate it.

All the secrecy, and lying, and overall immorality of it all.

People die over that shit.

And I don't know if I can be a part of something like that.

Just another thing to make me drink at night instead of sleeping.

“Are you feeling better? Can I do anything? I try to help you, since you help me.” Josiah says.

I smile at him. “Just keep safe. And keep being  _ absolutely adorable _ .”

I love how red his face gets when I compliment him. In fact, I live for it.

“I will…” He says, covering his face with his hands.

“So…” I say, starting the quick drive to school, “Who took you home the other day?”

I told myself I wasn't going to pry.

That I was going to let it go, but…

I’m just really worried. 

We have to keep communication open right now. Who knows when Ethan, Hunter, or Logan will try to do something again?

And when they do, it will be so much worse than just a beating.

“Oh. It’s just a new possible friend. Since I don’t have friends anymore, I figured I should put myself out there a bit.”

Oh…

I smile. “That’s really cool, Josiah. I’m proud of you for doing that. I know you’re not the most... _ social  _ person.”

“Yup. I know. He...approached me first. I think he wants to do it again tomorrow night. I figured I should ask you first…? Is that okay?”

“You don’t have to ask my permission to have friends. Really. I don’t mind. I’m really...happy for you.”

All this information does is remind me how very much  _ friendless _ I am now.

As shitty as Hunter and Ethan were, at least I wasn't  **_alone_ ** .

I hate being lonely.

Even if it’s only been one day, I already hate it so, so much.

Being alone in my head all that time…

I shake the thought from my head and force myself to pay attention to whatever Josiah was saying.

I missed the first part but….

“...and I really liked having a friend. It was cool. Don’t get me wrong, though. I like you much better as my  _ boyfriend _ .” He rants.

“Right. I like you more as a boyfriend, too. Now I don’t just have to be constantly afraid I’m going to fuck our friendship up...well, with that, anyway.” I laugh.

I worry about literally everything else and so much more now that we’re together, but he doesn’t need to be worried about me.

His life is hard enough as it is. The least I can do is try to protect him from as much as possible.

“You can’t mess anything up. I’ll always like you, no matter what. I’ll always come back to you.” He promises.

“I…” I stop.

To my surprise, I feel tears come to my eyes. 

“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat, and pushing the tears away, “That means a lot to me.”

“I’m serious. And, I know you don’t want me to worry about you or anything, but you can be honest with me always. I’ll help as much as I can. Okay?”

“Okay… I will be honest with you.”

But not about stuff he can’t help…

I can’t put anything else on him, and if it means putting more on me, then it means that there’s more on me.

I can take it.

…

School seems to take an eternity, with me just hiding as much as possible.

Somehow, I haven’t ran into any of the guys I'm avoiding, and it's more worrying than anything…

That means they’re planning something.

I just don't know what, or how.

They’re going to try to get me with my guard down.

I wait for Josiah at the car, per our usual schedule.

Unless his friend decides to take him home…

That’s stupid. 

I shouldn't be jealous that he has someone now.

He deserves everything good.

And friends are good…

And I need to quit thinking about the ones that left me.

Josiah was right all along…

They never really cared.

And that hurts so much more than any beating they can give me.

As he approaches, I'm spacing out so much, I don't realize he’s there until he says whatever it was a second time.

“Hey. Are we really studying today? ...Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I’m just...tired. Uh, as for studying, it’s up to you. I got a lot of studying in today actually, so either way is okay.”

“You got studying in today? How?”

“I’ve been eating lunch in the library, and now that I’m not with Hunter and Ethan, I actually use my study hall for...studying.” I shrug.

“You’re not allowed to bring food into the library.”

“I don’t care. I just hide in the back corner anyway. I’m not risking going to the lunchroom.”

“If you can find somewhere that food is actually allowed, I’ll just come with you. Then we can eat lunch together so I don’t have to worry about Alexa and Avery. And we can talk.”

That would be so nice. 

I really need him right now...

Just being near someone is relaxing.

I didn’t realize how much I depended on people's presence for my happiness…

“I’ll keep an eye open for somewhere for us to sneak off to...” I smile, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. And I think we should spend some time studying, and you should teach me something. Then we can hug and watch TV until it’s time to go.”

“That sounds really nice. There were three questions on the chemistry homework I definitely didn’t get at all, and I want to go over them.” I get in the car and he joins me, “What do you want me to teach you today?”

There’s really not much I can teach him. Not with the same importance of the stuff he teaches me…

“Making...food. Some kind of good food.” 

“Right. We’ll think of something.”

…

Spending time with him tonight was really nice.

We made dinner, and then worked on chemistry homework. And as soon as we were done, we went upstairs and cuddled on the couch.

I fell asleep once or twice and he had to keep waking me up.

As amazing as he, and every second with him is, I had to keep my mind from wandering all night. 

He kept asking if I was okay, and I kept saying I was.

And...I am.

Or, I guess, **I** **_will_ ** **be** .

It’s still all so different. Once I get used to everything…

I know I’ll be okay.

I have to be.

After I drop him off home, I immediately go home and get a bottle from our liquor cabinet.

I never really care which one it is.

It’s never been about the taste.

I take it up to my room, and drink until I can't worry about anything anymore.

I drink until I lose all feeling, and then eventually, I lose consciousness.

END


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24-

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Thursday, October 7th-

“Damien, hey…” I stop him before he gets out of his car, once we’re at the school.

“What’s up?” He asks.

He seems tired.

He’s been tired non-stop for the past couple days…

But he doesn’t want me to be concerned.

“I know you have to do stuff with your family this evening, but can you keep your phone on you? Please?”

“...Yeah. I’ll keep it in my pocket, and keep the sound on.” He promises.

“Thanks. I’ll only call for emergencies.” I assure him.

I’m just...not sure about any of this.

“Okay. Are you worried? About your friend time?”

I nod.

_ Friend _ … 

Right.

“I’m always afraid of people. I don’t want him to kidnap me and kill me.” I try to laugh it off a bit.

“I highly doubt that will happen. But if you feel even slightly uncomfortable, call me. I’ll be there as soon as I can get to you.”

“I will be uncomfortable no matter what, but okay,” I grab his hand, “Hey, before you go. Lean towards me a bit.”

“Okay…” He sounds surprised, but does as I tell him to.

I lean towards him, too, leaving a soft kiss on his head.

“Thanks! I’ll text you between classes. Bye.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it… Bye!” He says, as I get out of the car.

I get into the school before leaning against the wall and checking my phone. I send Damien about twenty heart emojis, then open the texts from Logan.

He has been asking a lot of weird questions. I’m almost convinced that he is just trying to confuse me.

He has asked a few personal questions about Damien that I don’t even know the answers to. 

I think he’s a spy.

I don’t like this.

At perfect timing, a text pops up. From Logan.

_**Logan**_ : Meet me behind the school after you get out of your last class.

That sounds sketchy. Behind the school, after everyone has left…

_Alright_. 

Damien would know about sketchy things like that.

As I go to my first class, I send him a short text.

Is behind the school dangerous?

**_Damien_** : Why?

I’m trying to figure out if it’s safe to go behind the school.

**_Damien_** : It’s not a good place to be, no. Probably one of the sketchier places. Don’t go there.

Okay. Don’t worry. I won’t. 

Like I have the choice. 

I’m doing this to keep him safe. So Logan doesn’t get his dad to expel him, or whatever. 

Since he knows he’s done illegal stuff, he could call the cops on him…

I’m going to protect him until I can’t anymore. This is okay.

This will be okay.

…

As soon as school ends, I text Logan. I double check about sixteen times that I am not texting Damien as I do so.

Is there a back door? Or do I go through the front door and walk around the building?

**_Logan_** : Just go through the front. I don’t expect you to be able to find a back door. Blind bitch.

That’s a low insult. But okay.

Just as dumb as when people just say  _ nerd _ .

_ Yes, I know! You bullies are so, so observant.  _ **_Congratulations_ ** _. _

“Where are you going?” Alexa catches me after I’m outside.

“Not to behind the school. That’s for sure.” I say immediately.

“That’s dangerous.” She remarks.

“I know. That’s why I’m  _ not  _ doing it.”

“Hey,” Avery cuts in, “What reason do you have for going back there? You realize that’s where people go to get high and/or drunk, right?”

“Yes.” I confirm.

“We’ll come with you, then. Were you invited, or something?” Alexa says.

Great. They’ll get addicted to drugs and…

This isn’t safe for them. They don’t have enough self-control. 

“Yes, but you weren’t.” I begin walking again, but they follow me.

I could have sworn that would work.

“Well, we have to make sure you stay safe.” 

Behind the building, there’s a small group of people.

Interesting how all the awful people in this school are so friendly with each other, as long as they continue being awful people. It might as well be a club.

I think… Logan, Lisa Beck, Jennie Watson, David Hoult...and…

Everyone except for Ethan and Hunter, pretty much, which is nice...

“Josiah. You brought friends.” Logan acknowledges me.

I need Damien.

“Yeah. What’s up?” Alexa asks.

“You two can leave. I just need Josiah to sit down until I’m done.” He says.

“Hey! Don’t make the girls leave!” David Hoult complains.

Oh, god…

“And what do you mean  _ until you’re done _ ? Aren’t you coming?” A way less familiar voice adds.

There’s no way that there’s people back here that I don’t know… What the hell? Do they invite people here who don’t go to the school?

“Fuck, no. Dirk’s a dumb-ass. I don’t want to go to his little party. He has one every other day and they’re never any fun.” Logan refuses.

Everyone is smoking.

Alexa joins in.

“You’re  **all** dumb-asses…” I mutter.

“Jesus Christ, Josiah. This is why I have to follow you around all the time.” Alexa snaps at me.

“Watch your mouth, kid. Unless you want me to punch it.” 

There’s people here that I don’t know. People who don’t go to the school. 

That’s horrifying.

“Yeah? Who the hell are you?” I look up at this guy as he approaches me.

I feel like he’s probably about as tall as Damien. Probably not as strong, though.

“Josiah!” Avery smacks my shoulder, making me wince.

Okay, whatever…

This is okay.

“Logan. You brought us a punching bag.” The guy says.

“No way. Pretend he isn’t here.” Logan refuses.

Is he defending me?

“Do you all realize that you’re wasting your lives? You’re ruining everything for yourselves and the people around you.” I go on.

“Kind of hard to ignore him when he won’t shut the fuck up.” 

“I know. He’s like that. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll learn his lesson after Ethan gets to him.” Logan steps between us.

“ _ Ethan _ ? Damien won’t let him-” I start, being cut off when Logan shoves me back, down onto the ground.

“Damien isn’t always around, is he? Sit there and be quiet, or I swear to God, Josiah Walker…” He hisses.

...Should I keep pushing it?

I look up at the people. 

They’re scary. 

“If anyone says anything about me, I…” I curl up, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, “I-I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

…

It feels like that took about six hours, although I’m pretty sure it was more like twenty minutes.

Alexa and Avery harassed Logan a bit when he said he was taking me home, insisting over and over again that they didn’t think it was safe. 

My life itself isn’t  _ safe _ .

I have been contemplating calling Damien this whole time, but… He would realize that I lied to him. He would be pissed.

He’s...the only safe thing in my life.

The only one person I think I can trust at all.

“...Why don’t you know how to shut up when you’re around people bigger than you?” Logan mutters.

I straighten myself up in the seat a bit. 

“I don’t care what anyone does to me.” I state.

“Bullshit. You just always have the need to bitch about everything. I don’t like protecting you, Walker. If you weren’t part of the plan, I would have let those people kill you. But instead, I had to tell people to back off. To leave you alone when I want nothing more than for someone to crush your skull. Do you realize how hard that is for me?”

“Plan? What plan?” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t know! I’m supposed to protect you, and turn you into someone who doesn’t complain so damn much. I can’t do that when you’re being a bitch.”

“So what?”

“So, if you pull any of that sort of bullshit again, I’m not going to help you get away. And I’ll get Damien expelled. But you wouldn’t care, because you would be dead. Because you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut!”

I cross my arms and glare at him. “Fuck off, Logan. Why are you so interested in our lives?”

“I couldn’t care less about any of this shit. This is just a fun little game that would work just as well with any other weak, little faggot. Okay? So shut up. I swear.”

I want to continue, but I’m starting to get the feeling that he’s serious.

If he’s actually going to help me get what I want in this  _ fun little game _ , then  **_okay_ ** . I’ll play.

And  **everything will be okay** .

As soon as he parks the car, I get out without saying anything to him. 

**_I’ll worry about it later_ ** _. _

I go to the door and try to open it, but it doesn’t budge.

I knock a few times.

...I don’t think there’s anyone home.

I get my phone and sit down on the porch, going straight to Damien’s contact.

I press  _ call _ . 

It rings for a few seconds, before being answered.

Thank God.

“Josiah? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I c-can’t get into the-the house, and...and I fucked s-something up, and I d-don’t know how t-to get out of it. M-My head hurts l-like hell, and I-I can’t breathe...and…” I stammer.

“Hey, calm down, alright. Just take a breath, we will figure this out… One second.” He says something to whoever he’s with, then gets back to me, “Okay, Josiah. I’m going to have Pierre come get you, and you’re going to have to hang out with him until I get home, okay? I’ll be home in a few hours, I can’t get out of it. But I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Stay put.”

“I’m s-scared…” I manage, pressing my hand to my chest, feeling my heart pound, “Please don’t hang up. P-Please.”

My hands are shaking so much…

“Okay… um. I’ll get out of this, and I’ll see you in a...half-hour. Do you want Pierre to come wait with you until I'm there? Or will you be okay? I’m not going to hang up. Everything will be alright.”

“I’m n-not okay… I feel like I’m g-going to p-pass out. I really...I c-can’t **breathe** , Damien.” I cry.

“Where are you right now? Outside? Sit on the step right now.”

I shift and do as told. I need to trust him.

“Are you doing it? Now just take deep breaths, in and out. Focus on that and my voice, and nothing else.”

“It...makes m-my chest hurt.”

I can not breathe. At all.

“Do it anyway. You have to. I don’t know what’s going on, but it will be okay. It will all work out. We can get through this.  **Together** .”

I take my hand away from my chest to rub my eyes instead, trying to focus on breathing, like he said.

But it hurts.

But he’s right. 

Breathing is necessary for living.

“I-I...need a...a hug.” I rub my eyes harder.

“I’m going to be there soon. And I’ll hug you all night if I have to.”

I don’t want to have to tell him what’s going on.

“O-Okay… Okay. I’m s-sorry.” I apologize weakly.

“It’s okay, you have no reason to apologize. I'm In the car now. I’ll be there soon.”

I pull at my hair and just rock back and forth a bit.

He’ll be mad if I tell him.

I can’t let him be mad.

I need to...come up with an excuse.

I need to lie to him. Again.

End


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25–

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Thursday, October 7th-

My dad hands me some papers, and has me start going through them.

I can’t get over how... _ business like _ this drug thing is.

It’s run like a legit business, and I still can't get over it.

That, and every front business he has is also an actual, semi-thriving business on it’s own.

“Hide in plain sight.” Is all he said when I asked about it.

He starts showing me the business aspects of it, and it’s actually really interesting how it all works.

If this wasn’t a big front for the main source of drugs and other illegal things in and out of the city, I would love this job.

In fact, maybe when I graduate high school, I’ll do something business related.

I try to stay on task, but my mind wanders, and I end up looking out the window of the office building, and out onto the city scape.

We’re in a fucking  _ twenty-something _ story building, and I don’t know how to feel about all of this…

It all feels so real.

No wonder mom can justify this but not having a  _ gay _ son…

If that’s what I am.

I don’t know.

It doesn’t seem so bad when you’re in here.

I stop looking out on the slowly setting sun, and I see my reflection in the window. 

Business wear was required today, and I’m in the suit they got me forever ago.

It’s definitely not my preferred thing to wear, but at least he didn’t make me put a tie on.

I look at my face, and my messy hair… I look as tired as I feel.

I run a hand through my hair and attempt to fix it a bit.

Eh. I really can’t be bothered to care.

Before I can get back onto my job, I hear my phone start ringing.

I pull it from my pocket.

**Josiah** .

I look at dad. “I have to take this.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, but just laughs, “Go ahead.”

I leave the room and answer in the empty hallway.

Almost everyone has left for the night.

“Josiah? What’s wrong, are you okay?” I try to keep any panic out of my voice, but I’m sure it doesn’t work.

“I c-can’t get into the-the house, and...and I fucked s-something up, and I d-don’t know how t-to get out of it. M-My head hurts l-like hell, and I-I can’t breathe...and…” He stammers, sounding like he's going to explode or something. I’ve never heard him so upset.

I need to calm him down, so that he can tell me what’s going on.

“Hey, calm down, alright. Just take a breath, we will figure this out…”

My dad comes out of the room and stares at me expectantly.

“…One second,” I tell Josiah, and put a hand over the phone so he can’t really hear anything,

“Sorry. It’s a friend. They need some help. Is there any way that we can…be done for the night?”

“We only have like an hour or two left, just hang up and come back in.” He commands.

I don’t blame him.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are  _ family nights _ .

As soon as he goes back into his office, I grab the phone again, quickly coming up with a plan.

“Okay, Josiah. I’m going to have Pierre come get you, and you’re going to have to hang out with him until I get home, okay? I’ll be home in a few hours, I can’t get out of it. But I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Stay put.”

I hear a heavy sigh, and all I want to do is be there.

“I’m s-scared…Please don’t hang up. P-Please.”

Shit…

I have to make a choice.

Is this worth getting in trouble over?

... **Yes** . 100%.

He’s always worth getting in trouble over.

“Okay… Um. I’ll get out of this. and I’ll see you in a...half-hour. Do you want Pierre to come wait with you until I'm there? Or will you be okay? I’m not going to hang up. Everything will be alright.”

I poke my head into his office. “I’m leaving. You’ll be okay without me. See you Tuesday.”

He sighs. “Go. You’re fine. But do not make this a habit, okay? And don’t tell your mother.”

Thank God.

I smile at him and I leave, putting the phone to my ear. He’s still going on about whatever he was saying before.

“...I really...I c-can’t **breathe** , Damien.” 

“Where are you right now? Outside?” I assume. He said he got locked out. So, I need to head to his house.

I get on the elevator and head down. I’m glad I drove separate.

“Sit on the step right now.” I instruct him. He needs to calm down before he passes out.

“Are you doing it? Now just take deep breaths, in and out. Focus on that and my voice, and nothing else.”

“It...makes m-my chest hurt.” He says in a shaky voice.

I watch the floor numbers drop slowly.

_ Too slowly _ …

I should have booked it down the stairs…..

“Do it anyway. You have to. I don’t know what’s going on, but it will be okay. It will all work out. We can get through this.  **Together** .” Isay, as the elevator finally lets me out. I start running again out of the building and to my car, not wasting any time.

“I-I...need a...a hug.” He murmurs.

“I’m going to be there soon. And I’ll hug you all night if I have to.” I tell him, getting in my car and starting towards his house.

“O-Okay… Okay. I’m s-sorry.”

“It’s okay, you have no reason to apologize. I'm In the car now. I’ll be there soon.”

…

I stay on the phone with him the entire way to his house.

He only responds occasionally, just to let me know he's still there.

And I just focus on saying calming nonsense, like  _ “everything will be okay” _ and  _ “I’ll be there soon” _ and  _ “It will all work out, you'll see.” _

I have no idea what he’s freaking out about, and I have no idea if any of that is true, but it seems to calm him some, or at least quiet him a bit.

When I get to his house, I see him sitting on his house step, shivering.

It's not that cold out...

It must just be from the panicking.

I get out and start towards him, hanging up as I do so.

"Josiah?" I say as I approach, trying not to startle him.

He looks up in my direction, eyes unfocused. "D-Damien..." He mumbles.

"Hey." I say, taking my suit jacket off and sitting beside him. I drape it over his shaking shoulders. He flinches slightly at my touch but he doesn't move away.

"...I-I'm sorry." He apologizes softly. 

"Don't apologize. Why don't I take you home and get you something warm to eat? Then we can talk. Can you stand?" 

I might have to carry him... 

"I c-cannot move." 

"Can I touch you? I can carry you to the car if you let me." 

I don't want to scare him anymore then he already is.

And sometimes me touching him scares him. 

"No... N-No. Please." He cries. 

Glad I asked first.

"That's okay. We'll just stay here, then." 

There's nothing else we can do, really. 

He puts his hands on the edges of my jacket and holds them tightly.

It’s comically too big on him, and yet somehow, he still manages to look adorable.

I look in his eyes and he looks so... _ faraway _ .

What the fuck happened?

"Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you want to wait?”

"I went...b-behind the school...because of m-my friend."

"Right." 

I told him not to, but why the fuck did I think that would stop anything?

"What happened?" 

"I'm s-sorry! I didn't know w-what else to do... We have this d-deal and...and... I c-can't be the one t-to b-break it," He rambles, staring at the floor, "People were mean b-back there. And I-I got in trouble because I told them they're b-bad. And n-now the deal m-might be broken..."

"Hey. Take a second to breathe, okay?" 

He takes in a shaky breath and then slowly exhales.

"Okay. Now. Let's start with, who is this friend? And what  _ deal _ ?"

"I...can't tell y-you. But the deal k-keeps everyone s-safe." 

"You have to tell me." He can't just say he made some sort of  **_deal_ ** then not tell me what it is.

What is he hiding? 

"I can't. I-I'm already in trouble. No m-more..." He mumbles. 

"Okay. I won't ask." 

I don't know how the fuck he expects me to help I cant hug him or anything.

And I can't try to figure out what's going on.

I can't  _ DO  _ **_anything_ ** .

And with each silent second passing between us, I get more anxious.

**I need to** **_help_ ** . 

What  _ deal  _ is he talking about?

Who is this person that just decided to do this to him?

If I knew who it was, I could beat the shit out of them and… 

At least I could  _ DO  _ **_something_ ** .

Anything is better than this. Just sitting and waiting to be attacked. If I knew, I could prepare, and... 

Josiah finally breaks the silence.

I don't know how long it's been that we sat here silently. Could have been hours. Could have been seconds

"Are you mad at m-me?" He takes another deep breath and finally looks at my face. 

"No. I'm not mad. I wish you would tell me what's going on, but I'm not mad at you. I just don't know what to do."

"D-Don't hit me. I'm really, r-really sorry..." He says again, "If y-you knew, it would m-make things worse f-for everyone involved." 

"I would never hit you. Not ever. And… I trust you." 

I don't know if I should, but I don't have any other options. If he did something stupid, I'm just fucked... But I can't do anything either way, and I just have to hope to God he did something that will help.

"Okay... I'm g-good for hugs now. If you w-want." 

"Of course." I say, opening my arms. 

He shifts closer and I wrap my arms around him tightly, resting my chin on his head. 

"You mean everything to me," I mutter softly to him, "And whatever this is, we'll get through this. I promise." 

"D-Did this count as a reason to c-call you?" 

"Yes. It did. You did the right thing." I rub his back gently and he plays with the collar of my dress shirt.

"C-Can you...explain why s-sometimes, I can't breathe, or m-move? And why it makes my chest hurt s-so much?" 

"It's probably an anxiety attack of sorts. But I'm not a doctor. You just get so scared and panicked, your body doesn't know what to do..."

I get them sometimes. But I have to  **really** be freaking out. 

Like... _REALLY,_ ** _REALLY_** freaking out.

"I-I'm not dying?" 

"No. Because I say you're not allowed. Not happening. "

"Okay... I thought m-my organs were failing, and that's why it k-keeps happening." He sighs against me. 

"No. You're okay. You just have to breathe. That's all." 

"Can you make it s-stop...?" 

"No. But I can try to make it not hurt as bad," I take a deep breath, "Now. It's getting dark. Do you need to come home with me?"

"I can't get in. I don't think anyone's c-coming home tonight. Is it okay for me to s-stay with you?" 

"Of course it is. Let's go, then. Do you need help?" 

He nods, not moving from my arms. He seems a little calmer now.

I get up, taking him with me. He's really light. I carry him bridal style, and he nuzzles close to me. I carry him to the car and it takes a second, but I get the car door open and sit him down gently.

I buckle him in and then shut the door behind me. I then get into the driver’s seat and take him home.

…

After I park in the garage, I ask, "Are you feeling a little bit better?"

"I...think so." He says.

"Do you want me to carry you upstairs? Or do you have it?"

"I don't want you to drop me."

"You weigh like four pounds. I wont drop you. I can carry you."

"Okay." 

I get out and get him out of the car. He's still in my jacket. 

I carry him up the stairs carefully, not wanting to scare him. When we get into my room, I sit him down on my couch and then slip my dress shoes off and sit beside him. 

"Do you want something to eat or drink...? How can I help?" I ask him, really, really tired all the sudden. I shouldn't have sat down.

"I just want to be s-safe." 

"Well. You are. You're with me." 

"You can't be safe, either." 

"We're safe for tonight. Don't worry about anything else, okay?" 

I don't want him to panic again. 

"Why don't I go get you a Pop-Tart and some juice?" I say, getting up.

" **_Don't leave me_ ** ."

"Okay." I sit back down beside him. I take my phone from my pocket and text Pierre and ask him to bring up juice and a Pop-Tart.

His first response is  _ you have legs, come get it yourself _ .

But when I say that  _ it's for  _ **_Josiah_ ** , he immediately says he's bringing it up… 

Jerk.

"Do you want another hug? Or to hold hands...?" 

"Just...hugs all night."

"Okay." I hold my arms out and he cuddles closer. I rub his back again gently. 

After a few minutes, there's a knock on the door. Josiah looks alarmed.

"It's me." I hear Pierre say through the door. 

"Come in." I say, not moving. Josiah doesn't, either. 

Pierre sees us on the couch and smiles, sitting the food on the table in front of us. "You guys are adorable." 

I feel my face flush. " _ Pierre _ ..." I groan.

He laughs. "Okay. I'm leaving. Sorry. I'll be here until eight tonight, so if you need anything, just text."

I smile at him. "Thanks. For real."

Not just for the Pop-Tart, but for being cool about us. I hope he knows what I mean.

"Of course." He smiles and says, "In case I don't see you before I go, I love you both."

"Love you, too." I say and look down at Josiah. He looks confused.

Pierre leaves and I say, "He brought you a Pop-Tart and juice. You should eat." 

"He was nice...and he said  _ I love you _ ." He says in disbelief.

"Yeah. ‘Cause he loves us. Pierre is more my dad than my real dad." I explain to him again.

" _ He loves _ ... **_us_ ** ...?" 

"Yeah...He would do, like...anything for us."

"Why  **_me_ ** ?" 

"Cause you mean a lot to me. Therefore, he loves you, too." 

"But...no one's said that for...like, ten years." 

"Said what?" 

" _ I love you _ . Last time I heard it, was from m-my dad..."

"Well... I love you, too." I say, meaning it as soon as it comes out of my mouth. 

I didn't think I did yet, but I know now that I do. I would do anything for him, and also,  **fuck** his dad.

...His dad is the  **_bad_ ** _ one _ .

The one in jail because he hurt him.

"And I'll love you forever." I say softly. 

He chokes out a sob, starting to cry again.

"I love you." He says back. 

"Hey," I say, holding him to me tighter, "It's okay." 

I gently pet his head as he buries his face into my chest. 

"Did I say something wrong?" I ask him softly. 

"No one...loved m-me," He starts trembling, "Besides my parents. I..." 

"Well. I do now. And Pierre does, too." I say matter of factly. 

His hair is so soft... I go back to rubbing his back gently instead.

"Why?" 

"Because you're an amazing person and everyone deserves love." 

"But, I... I  **don't** ... I shouldn't be." He stammers. 

"Too bad. You are." I'm not going to lie and say I don't love him. 

"I love you, Damien..." He says. 

"I love you, too." I say again. He seems to really like hearing it. "Your Pop-Tart is probably cold." 

He shivers and raises his head to look at the Pop-Tart and juice. 

"I love you." He repeats. 

I chuckle slightly. 

" _ I love you _ . Did you have the lunch I packed you?" 

Him eating, I can control... _ kinda _ .

"I...don't think so. I put it in my bag." 

I let go of him just enough to grab the Pop-Tart and hand it to him. "Eat this, then." He takes it slowly and starts eating, taking a small bite.

"Juice?" He holds his other hand out. 

I hand it to him and he takes a drink of it. 

I yawn and let him go, leaning back against the couch. I could fall asleep right now. 

Josiah looks over at me. "What? Why did you stop hugging?" 

"I thought I would let you eat," I say, shutting my eyes, "And then I would sleep..." 

"You're...going to bed? But I-I need hugs." 

"Hug me while I'm sleeping, then." 

"I can't. Y-You'll be in bed." 

"And?" 

"That's... _ like _ ... **_sex_ ** . No." 

Oh…

"I mean. It's not, but okay." 

"We can sleep on the couch," I suggest, "And then you can hug me like we have been."

"I don't want to sleep. If you're going to sleep, maybe I should...go to a different room and do homework."

"No. I'll stay up." I insist, rubbing my eyes and sitting up.

"Don't stay up because of me."

"But… I don't want you to have to be alone..." 

"It's not a big deal. I'm used to- I... I can handle it." 

"You shouldn't have to  _ alone _ , though. I'm staying up for at least a few more hours. Do you want to watch a movie?" I ask him as he finishes his food.

"I don't want to watch anything where people are mean." 

"...Okay," I pick out a little kid movie and say, "If I fall asleep, literally any of the rooms upstairs are free. So, whatever is comfortable to you, you go ahead and do." 

"Okay..." 

He finishes his food and I ask, "Can I hold your hand?" 

He holds his hand out for me to take. I take it and rest our hands on the couch between us. I rub my thumb in circles on the back of his hand. 

"Hey, Josiah?"

"Yeah...?" 

"I really do mean it.  **I love you** . So, so much." I say, shutting my eyes again.

I don't want to sleep, but I don't know if I have an option. My eyes are saying otherwise.

"That scares me...but I love you, too." 

.. _. _ **_Scares_ ** _ him _ ?

I don’t know what he means by that, but it sure as hell sums up what I'm feeling right now, because it scares me, too.

End


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26- 

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Friday, October 8th-

At some point in the middle of the night, Damien fell asleep.

I wasn’t really sure what to do. I was too scared to sleep.

I’ve got my life, and more importantly, his happiness and future on the line here…

No one has really done anything but yell and shove yet. A part of me hopes they don’t push it any further, but…

Another part of me feels like I should be getting punished for involving myself in this. And no matter how many times I ask Damien if he’s mad, he always says  _ no _ .

But he should be upset.

He should do something about it.

I watch him start up the car.

He’s gotten used to putting his seatbelt on. Thank God.

“Damien.” I get his attention.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It kinda hurts, but… It also feels so, so good.

It’s nice that I believe him. It’s also really strange...?

I don’t know.

“I love you... **_more_ ** .” I say carefully.

He laughs, “No way. I love you more.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for that to be true. You have no idea...how much I love you.”

“Then tell me.”

“I just did. I said  _ I love you more _ .” 

“No, tell me  **why** . You can't claim you love me more, then have no evidence to back your claim.”

“What sort of _ evidence _ ?” I ask.

“Anything to back your claim, of course. The  _ jury _ has to deem it worthy evidence, but it can be anything.”

“There’s a jury…?”

“Yeah.  **_Me_ ** . I’m the jury, and the guilty party, and the judge.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, but okay. My evidence is that I said it. Because I said it, it is true.”

“Hmm… That’s interesting, but the jury doesn’t think that’s enough evidence. Come back with your claim tomorrow, and have more evidence, or they won't believe you.”

“You don’t have any evidence to prove otherwise. You have to prove that I’m wrong, not that there’s not enough evidence.”

“Nah. I’m the judge, so there’s not enough evidence to convict, also me, the guilty party. I’m going to have to dismiss you from this courtroom.”

“We’re...in a car, Damien.”

“Nope. Courtroom. Use your imagination for once, Josiah.”

“I don’t have one. I never learned that particular skill. It’s the one thing I’m not good at.” I claim.

“The one thing? Okay, Mr.  _ Almost Perfect _ . At least I have  _ ONE _ thing I’m better at than you.”

“Well, yeah. You learned  _ imagination  _ as a kid. Great skill. Congratulations. If only you would have put the same effort into science.”

“Wow,  **okay.** Shots fired.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I’m happy you’re a dumb-ass. Because our relationship is based off of tutoring. You saved me  _ because tutoring _ .”

“Right.  **_Tutoring_ ** . I definitely only wanted tutoring when I saved your ass from Logan, like, five fucking times.”

_ Logan… _

Fuck.

“I think it was three times, but yeah.”

“No. **Fifteen times** . Then you devoted your life to me and said I was your hero and that you would follow me to the end of the earth. You’re just not remembering right.”

“The  _ follow to the end of the earth thing was you _ , dummy. And I know this. Because I couldn’t have  **_imagined_ ** it.” I chuckle.

“So, you really know everything other than imagination? Say something to me in Swedish right now.”

“ _ Jag är kär i dig _ .” I say.

“The  **fuck** ?”

“I said I’m in love with you. You wanted me to say something in Swedish.” I remind him, “I  **_am_ ** Swedish.”

“Say something in Japanese.”

“ _ 愛してるよ. _ ”

“...What?”

“I said. _ I love you _ . In Japanese. What do you want from me?”

“Why do you know I love you in Japanese and Swedish? How many fucking languages do you know? Nerd.”

“I don’t know them that well. I’m roughly conversational in...like...four, and fluent in English and Swedish. My house had a bunch of language books. I didn’t have toys; I had books.” 

“Which ones  **don't** you know?”

“ _ Which ones  _ **_don’t_ ** _ I know _ ? A lot. I’m learning French right now. I think I’m almost conversational.”

“Okay, which ones do you know. Swedish, Japanese, French, what else?”

“Spanish and German. Those are pretty good.” 

“Then say  _ I love you _ in  **Dutch** .”

“Dutch...isn’t the same. I don’t know for sure.”

“Ha. I win.”

“Once I’m done with French, I’ll learn Dutch. Just out of spite.”

“Of course you will. Have fun learning an entire language out of spite. I’ll be doing something useful, like curing cancer and also being a billionaire and owning a very big company… Oh, and being president, of course.”

“Well, once I know all the languages, I’ll be  _ president  _ of the  **_world_ ** .”

“Right, then I'll take over the world with America. So, ha.”

“You said you would follow me. You’ll be the  _ first lady  _ of the  **_world_ ** . Once we get married.”

“ _ M-Married _ ?”

“Are we...not doing that?” I ask softly.

Oh. I thought this was something he was planning to do forever, and...

“Not for three hundred years.”

“I guess you don’t even want to  _ imagine  _ it, then…?”

“I mean, not yet. Marriage is scary.”

“What’s scary about it? I am so ready to just be able to live with someone I love every day, and to finally have a family again… It would be nice if that was you.” 

In fact, I don’t know if I would ever be able to find someone I love this much...and  _ anyone  _ who loves me.

“I…” He sighs, “Being married and stuff is a huge deal. I’m doing it once and that's it, and my mom always said  _ divorce sends you to hell _ . But, I mean, us being  **_together_ ** also sends me to hell… So, I don't know. But, like, what would I tell my parents? I… It's a really big thing and just having someone who you depend on and they depend on you seems scary as fuck, dude. And that’s the tip of the iceberg. You’re like the only  _ real _ relationship I've had.”

“I already depend on you. And…  _ What  _ **_are_ ** _ you going to tell your parents _ ? About us. Are they ever going to know?”

“Please don’t make me worry about that, too.” He says softly.

He parks the car.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell my family. I think they’re going to be upset that I lied to them, and that someone is being nice to me, but it’ll just be like last time. I won’t do it until we can move out, I think. And...my dad… He probably won’t care. When he gets out, I’m going to tell him about you as soon as possible. He’ll probably want to meet you.” I rant, having thought about this before.

I don’t know what he’s so afraid of in all of this…

“Right. That’s something we’ll have to do, isn’t it?”

“Unless you want to hide forever. Or break it off before you have to tell anyone so it doesn’t matter anyway. But if you’re going to do that, I would prefer if you do it now so I don’t have to worry about you doing that.”

“I’m not going to break up with you. And...we can’t hide forever, I just don’t know what we're going to do about it and I know that as soon as I tell my parents…they‘ll kick me out, or worse... So we have to wait. Until I have my own place, at least.”

“Okay,” I try to just let it go for now, “Alright, I’ll see you after school.”

“Right...before you go. I do want to be with you, for a really, really long time. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…

Having more time to be with Damien is really, really nice.

I almost wish I never had to go home. 

We go over all of the math I needed him to do, before he claims that it’s time for a dinner break.

“Damien,” I grin, “Do you have cookies?” 

He grins back. “You want cookies for dinner?” He knew what I was going to suggest.

I nod expectantly.

“You’re supposed to be the one who always pushes for us to do the right thing and follow the rules, but you want cookies for dinner?” He questions, and I nod again, “Well, just this once, I have to tell you  _ no _ . You need real food.” 

“... _ Real food _ being…?” I hope the answer is  _ chicken nuggets _ . 

“Healthy stuff. Like vegetables, and shit.” He shrugs.

“Shit isn't healthy. You eat shit, and you die.” I giggle. He forces a laugh, which I hope is completely fake. That wasn’t even the slightest bit funny.

“How can I help?”

“Please get a few vegetables out of the fridge, rinse them off, and cut them.” He instructed.

I blink incredulously. Is he serious? 

He turns away from me and starts doing something else, which means he must really trust me to use a knife…

Dumb-ass.

I open the refrigerator and pull out carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes. I manage to get them all rinsed off and placed on the counter before Damien checks on me again.

“...Do you need help?” He offers. 

“Why would I need help? Where do you keep the knives?” I ask. 

“Over here.” He taps on the counter to make a sound.

I go over and find a wooden box thing that has a bunch of different types of knives in it. 

Which knife is for  _ vegetables and shit _ ?

It must be sharp to easily get through cucumber and carrot, and I have a feeling that it should be a big knife. The easiest solution is to take the biggest one.

I pull out the one that seems to be the largest, immediately having Damien taking it out of my hand.

“That’s practically a fucking cleaver! What the hell are you doing?” 

“I don’t know!” I tell him, putting on that innocent look that I believe works on him.

As expected, he sighs, putting the knife aside. His hand comes up, and I naturally blink and scrunch up my face.

“Boop.” He says as his index finger pokes my nose. 

“What was that?” I ask.

“A  _ boop _ . Because you’re cute.”

I immediately start shaking with laughter, and I swear that tears come to my eyes. Can you imagine if the kids at school saw  **_that_ ** ? The people of the world deserve to know that Damien Cohen is a cute sweetheart. 

He just waits for me to calm down, which is something he has gotten used to by now.

“...Can I still cut the healthy food?” I ask him after I finally get myself to stop laughing at him.

“Fuck, no. Go sit down and I’ll need you again when we start making cookies.” He orders, shaking his head

“Cookies?” I question.

“Yeah. Just a few. Sit.”

“You guys should get a pet.” I say.

“Josiah… Go sit.” He repeats.

“I guess I am your pet.” I chuckle. 

I sit down at the kitchen island and just watch him work.

For being someone who has a personal chef, he cooks really well… I think. He is better than me for sure, but I am not even allowed to cut a carrot. 

So much for teaching me.

“You promised cookies.” I remind him after a few minutes start, when he seems to be done with what he was doing for now.

“Mmhm… You want to start?” 

“Hell yes,” I get up off the chair, “I want thirty.”

“Don’t make me boop you again,” He threatens, “Maybe you should have three.” 

“Ten.”

“Three.”

“...Fine.” I give in. At least, for now. 

We go over to the oven together, and he pulls a pan out of the oven, closing it and preheating it for the cookies. He got the mix out, and all the ingredients. 

Technically, I pretty much watch him do this, too, but I feel more involved because I’m over here. And that’s all that matters.

“How many does it make?” I begin to pester him again.

“Twenty-four.” He answers.

“Then… Why can't I have twenty, then? You could have four.” I go on. 

He tunes me out, I can tell, but I keep going, “How many do you want? You can have as many as you want, and I’ll have the rest. Believe me, I’m smart, this is a good idea.”

A minute of silence passes. He seems to be too tired to even humor me with some sort of response. Maybe I should have let him go rest instead of having to make these…

He warns me to stay back as he opens the oven to put the cookies in, as if I didn’t know it was hot. It was getting kinda funny. I like him thinking I’m helpless; It’s actually hysterical.

I almost want to touch it…

...

We ate dinner and then got flashcards out, going over them quickly before the oven started beeping obnoxiously.

I flinched at first, but I quickly realized what was going on, getting up and going over to the oven.

“Damien! They’re done.” I say, opening the oven as he comes to me. 

“Back up, it’s hot.” He gets an oven mitt and takes the pan out, setting it aside on the counter before closing the oven.

I instantly reach out to grab one. 

He can’t control me.

He catches my wrist before I can even touch them. “No. They’re hot. Don’t touch.” He warns.

“You let me touch you, and you’re hot.” I shrug.

“...I wonder about you sometimes, Josiah.”

“Of course. I probably freak you out a lot. You worry about  **_everything_ ** , **_always_ ** .” I point out.

“Not true. I’m very laid back and never worry about anything, ever.” He claims.

“I wish.” I sigh.

“Yeah, same. I haven't slept in like three weeks.”

“Not because of me, I hope.” I say, going to try to grab a cookie again.

“...Nope. not you.” He pushes my hand away.

“Sometimes, I forget other people can see.” 

“You’ll have to be sneakier then.”

“But I don’t know what you can see! This is unfair. This is discrimination against the disabled.” I tell him, hoping to distract him.

“Well, get good.”

“Can you see this?” I move closer to the cookies and subtly use the closest hand to make my third attempt.

I manage to barely touch one this time. 

They’re very hot.

He grabs my hand quickly, and this time he doesn’t let go. He just intertwines our fingers. “There. Now what are you going to do?”

“Goddammit.” I can’t pull away. I like the hand holding too much.

“Ha. Plan ruined.”

“You’re smarter than I thought you were. But, you forgot one thing…” I murmur.

He grabs my other hand and also intertwines our fingers. “I forgot what?”

I look up at him.

Hmmm…

“Damien…” I take a step closer, tilting my head back to keep looking at him.

We’re almost touching. Almost.

I’m still safe.

“Yeah?” He asks softly, looking down at me.

I get up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. 

“Wanna try the kissing thing again?” I ask.

Since apparently, you’re supposed to ask before kissing. And they need to say  _ yes _ .

“Of course.”

“Alright. Close your eyes so it’s not weird. Don’t be a creep.” I laugh.

“Okay,” He says, “They're shut.”

I pull my hands away from his and use one to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down a bit. 

I leave a chaste kiss on his lips. Real quick. 

He puts a hand on my back and pulls me into another, longer kiss… 

He didn’t ask.

That’s his own rule and he didn’t even do it…

I don’t like this...

I try to ignore the feeling and look over at the cookies. I snatch one.

“D-Damien. Stop. Please.” I attempt to pull away.

He lets me go immediately. “Sorry.”

I shove the cookie into my mouth.

I stare blankly at him, trying to figure out if I should freak out or not. 

I don’t know why he’s like this.

”Isn’t that hot?” He questions.

I nod.

“Is your mouth burning?”

I nod again.

“Did you learn something?”

I shake my head _no_ this time, swallowing the cookie. “It was worth it.”

“Doubtful.”

“Have you ever had a chocolate chip cookie? They’re worth  **anything** .”

“I’ve had them, but the only cookie worth burning my mouth is  _ chocolate chunk cookies _ .”

“Whatever.” I say, grabbing another one.

He grabs one. “They’re too hot.” He takes the one out of my hand.

“Don’t steal cookies from me. That’s mean. And don’t touch my back. And no long kisses. Only small ones.”

“Why not?”

“ _ Why not  _ to which thing?”

“The last two.”

“Because I don’t like being touched. Don’t touch me besides holding hands and hugs.”

“Okay, whatever you want.” He says begrudgingly.

“You don’t like me just because you want to touch, right?” 

“I only wanted to touch someone, there’s a lot of people that would be easier to pick than you.”

That’s a scary thought.

I would rather him stay with me and touch me all he wants than for him to leave and go love someone else...

“Okay…”

I take a cookie and go straight back to the table before he can protest.

I’m going to eat all of them.

I’m going to feel guilty as hell during and after, but I’m going to do it anyway.

End


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27-

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Tuesday, October 12th-

Josiah's friend took his home today.

 **_Friend_ **. Right.

The one who took him out behind the school…

The one he won't let me meet.

That _friend_.

Right.

It’s all I think about as I do training today, and it’s all I think about after.

I should text him and make sure he’s okay…

Or I could have something to drink…

I sneak down to the liquor cabinet. Pierre has been getting on me about drinking lately, and it makes me mad, so I guess I’ll have to be more sneaky about it.

I grab a few bottles and I rush upstairs, before he can see me.

I lock my door behind me, and start drinking until my feelings go away.

Until I quit worrying… About Ethan and Hunter, and _fucking Logan Haas_ , and my dad, and the company, about my mom finding out about me, and Josiah, about someone else telling her about me and Josiah, about burning in hell for all eternity…

Just to name a few…

I drink until the bottle is empty, and I remember kissing Josiah the other day.

How he freaks out when I hardly touch him…

How the fuck is this going to work?

He says he wants to get fucking _MARRIED_ and he can hadly stand to even get a hug.

There’s not a chance in hell we’re going to end well…

But, oh my God, while it lasted, it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.

And I can't quit dreaming about him.

Literally and figuratively.

It's like all I can think about anymore is how he’s doing. Is he safe? Is he okay? Will we be okay?

It’s not just me I have to worry about anymore, and having someone else depend on me is horrifying.

I start in on my second bottle.

I want to see him.

No. 

I **have** to see him.

I stand up and stumble a bit, putting my coat and shoes on.

I’m going to go see him, if it kills me.

I need to see him. He’s the only thing that can get my mind out of this rut…

I just want my brain to shut the fuck up for three seconds.

I grab my phone and go outside, starting toward his house.

I get mixed up a few times, but I end up getting there after a while, and at that point, my bottle is almost empty.

I sit down on the concrete steps in front of his door and I shoot him a text.

The phone blurs in my hands and it takes me a few tries to get the right keys.

Cpome see mw righht now.

**_Josiah_** : I can’t. Is something wrong?

Ye. im at ur hoise.

**_Josiah_** : What? 

**_Josiah_** : Why?

I lean my head back against the faded white screen door, ignoring his replies, and after a bit, the door tries to open behind me. I don’t move.

" _Damien_? Move. What the hell are you doing here?"

I scoot out of the way and watch two Josiahs come out of the house and stand in front of me.

“What happened? What’s wrong with you?”

He's in the light blue sweater today.

"That sweater makes your eyes look really pretty..." I slur.

" **_What’s wrong with y-you_ **? Why are you here? Are you… Are you drunk? You didn’t drive here, did you?!” He looks around for my motorcycle.

"I walked. I had to see you,” I say quietly, “I...can’t quit thinking about what I did the other day, and how you reacted and what we’re going to do about Logan and Ethan and Hunter and literally everything else you can worry about, I've been worrying about it, and...”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be okay.”

“For fuck’s sake Josiah! It's not going to be okay!“ I get up and almost fall back over, but I regain my balance again, “Literally everything is **falling apart** and I can't stop it! I have no control over anything anymore and all I can do is sit back and watch as my life fucking _falls apart_!”

“ **It’s okay**. I’ve told you that I’m figuring it out.”

“No! You have to tell me what's going on, right now!”

We can't stop anything if he keeps hiding stuff from me.

“If I tell you, it wouldn’t work out the same. It’s okay this way. Once it’s finished, we’ll both be okay.”

“Stop saying it’s going to be okay! Ethan and Hunter are just waiting to attack and… I can’t take it. I can't keep doing this. Being _alone_ and pretending things are going to be fine! I...can't.”

I sit back down on the step. “Why won't you let me touch you? Like at all?”

All I can think about is how scared he looked.

“We touch. We hold hands, and hug.”

“Are you still **afraid of me**?”

“A little, yeah…”

“Will you ever trust me?”

“Probably not entirely, but...”

I bury my head in my hands.

“Of course you won’t. ‘Cause I’m just a bully. That’s all I’ll ever be. I’m just meant to hurt _people like you_ . Why would you ever trust me? What kind of relationship will this be if you don't let me touch you and don't ever **trust me**? “

“You...don’t like how we are now?”

“No, I do, it’s just… Will it always be like this? It’s okay for now but you started talking about _marriage_ and stuff and that made me think about the future and worry about that too and…”

“We don’t have to get married. If you ever want anything more from a relationship, it’s your job to leave.”

"So you don't think it will **ever** change?"

“How am I supposed to know? I’ve been this way as long as I can remember.”

Right…

So I just need to know if I can live like this.

Always walking on eggshells.

Always worried I'll hurt him.

But...

For every worry I have, there are like ten things I would miss.

What the fuck am I **thinking**? 

Why the hell would I even consider leaving him?

He makes me so happy…

"I'm so sorry." I say, feeling tears come to my eyes.

“Sorry for what?”

“For being a dick. You deserve so much better than me."

“I don’t even deserve you. What are you talking about?” 

"I'm a horrible person. "

“Maybe.”

"That's why you deserve someone better."

“No, I don’t. Even if you were a bad person.”

I stand up again, running a hand through my already messy hair. "You'll never believe me, will you?"

I turn and stare at him, locking eyes.

Not that he can see me.

If he could maybe he would see how tired I am already. And it's only been a few days…

I just want to sleep for a long fucking time.

“Probably not.”

I sigh, my legs wanting to go out from under me.

"Well. Sorry to bother you. I-I love you so, so much. You're my literal world and...you're all I have… I should go **.** It's late." I start to stumble toward what I think is home… It’s really dark and I'm drunk as **fuck**.

“Hey. You can’t go home like **this**.” 

I turn and almost fall over, making me laugh.

It's pretty funny.

"Like what?" I manage, still laughing.

In fact, this is all pretty fucking funny.

Maybe if I spent more time laughing, my problems would all go away...

“You’re drunk. Call Pierre or something.”

"He’s asleep. I'll be fine," I wave him off, "Have a fantastic evening." I say to him, starting to walk away. 

To my surprise he runs up and stands in front of me.

I stop and stare down at him.

“Stop it, dumb-ass. What you’re doing is stupid as hell.”

"Don't call me _stupid_ . It makes me **cry**." I admit.

It only ever made me cry once…but I'm just too sensitive.

I mean, he's not wrong. I am stupid.

“I said what you’re **_doing_ ** is _stupid_ , not that **_you’re_ ** _stupid_. Stupid people can make smart choices, and smart people can make stupid choices. You’re just insane and make bad choices.”

"Thank you… I think," I laugh again, "Did you know you're cute when you're angry? Your nose scrunches up like a little bunny rabbit or something, and I swear to God, it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen."

“Shut up. It’s not cute, because you got drunk and risked coming here. You’re just being weird. I’m **pissed** , Damien.”

 _He's_ mad at _me_?

"You have no right to be mad at me! You're the one that keeps hiding shit and trying to act like everything is fine and you won't even let me begin to help! I came to your house because you keep ignoring me every single fucking time I bring it up! And so what if people know about us?! We're **dating** ! I love you! **So what** ?! **"**

I look down at him, waiting for him to cry or scream or whatever the fuck I just envoked by yelling.

I should know better than to yell at him

I love him so much...

“You’re...being **_mean_ ** , Damien. Just stop. I said we would talk about it **later**.”

This is so aggravating. 

"I never should have come here. This was stupid. _I'm stupid_ , you're right. I'm going home." 

I move to go past him. 

“That’s not what I said. You can’t go anywhere by yourself!” 

"Why not? If you're so **pissed** , then let me leave!"

…I could just leave. He's very small.

“I’m pissed because you’re not taking care of yourself or staying safe! The **_drinking_ ** thing needs to stop.” 

" _The_ **_drinking_ ** _thing_ isn't stopping anytime soon. So you better get fucking used to it. Why would it matter anyway?"

“It’s gonna… It’s… Damien, you could get hurt, or even die. _This isn’t_ **_okay_ **.” 

" **Good**." I say it, and mean it.

“Shut up! Stop it. Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

"I keep telling you, a fucking lot. What more do you want from me?! You didn’t think I was going to change, did you? I'm mean. And I'm fucking _suicidal_! What did you expect?!"

To my suprise, tears fill his eyes…

Too far.

I took this **too** **_far_ **.

“Y-You can’t… Why would you s-say that?” He stares up at me with the saddest eyes.

"You wanted me to be _honest_ with you." I look away. I can't look at him like this.

“That s-shouldn’t be you b-being **_honest_ **… Why are you m-mean to y-yourself? You might h-hurt yourself somehow, and…” 

"Josiah," I say softly, looking at him again. He hasn't quit staring up at me, as if he's desperately trying to see me, "I… I don't know why. It’s just, I get so caught up in my head and everything I'm worried about sometimes… Sometimes, I **really** scare myself. But don't worry. I wouldn't ever… I won't leave you until you want me to."

_Or until I'm hindering you from living a better life._

“I-I will **never** **_want_** you to leave. I love y-you, and you’re the only thing k-keeping me s-safe… So, I need you t-to be safe, too.”

"I… Okay. I'll be better. Don't worry about me." I manage a smile. Not that he can see it. “I'm going to go home. You need to get to bed. We have school tomorrow."

“No. Don’t go.”

I sigh. "I have to. I'll be fine. Go home, Josiah."

“Not after you s-said all of that. Not when y-you’re drunk and being w-weird.” 

I shrug, "What, are we just going to stay out here **all** night?"

“I...uh… No, but… I c-can’t leave you.” 

I stare down at him expectantly. "Well then, I guess you're coming with me. Go get your school bag."

“...What if we get in trouble?”

"I couldn't give a flying fuck what anyone says right now. But I'm leaving with or without you, so either go get your stuff or don't."

_Please come with me…._

“Okay, okay… I-I will. Please wait here. **Don’t leave**.”

I sit down on the edge of the sidewalk, as if to prove my point. "Go."

He runs off and comes back a minute later, school bag in tow.

I just stare up at him, too tired to move.

"I shouldn't have sat down." I admit.

“Get up.”

I groan and get up, tottering a bit as I do so. "I feel _sick_." I admit.

“That’s because you’re drunk as hell…”

"Yeah. I suppose I asked for this…" I stare at him, "Can we hold hands? I...I'm _sorry_."

He holds his hand out to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t like fighting.”

"Me, neither." I say, starting toward where I'm pretty sure my house is.

"What if we get lost?" I say, wondering if I know exactly where I am.

“I can’t help you. **I’m blind**. Know where you're going.”

"I… Okay," I get my phone out and put it on GPS to my house, "There. Now we follow the mean British lady all the way home."

“ **What**?”

"Ya know. The British lady **in** my phone."

“ _The...British woman...who is currently...inside of your phone_?” He says slowly. 

"Yes. I named her _Matilda_ just now. Say _hi_." I say to him, holding up the GPS on my phone.

“What is it? Who...is **_she_ **?”

I sigh, getting frustrated. " _M-A-T-I-L-D-A_ . In my phone. **_The GPS lady_ **. Keep up."

As if to say _hi_ , my phone says, "Take the next left on Sugar Street."

“Oh. You could have just said you were using a GPS. Why did you name the GPS voice?”

"Because I hate the **nasty bitch**." I slur.

“Don't say that."

"Sorry." I say, squeezing his hand slightly.

She leads us home and by the time I get there, I feel like I'm going to pass out.

"I'm going to pass out." I tell Josiah as we walk up my driveway.

“No. Come on.” He replies instantly.

"I... _can’t_." I say, ready to give up and die right here. I stop.

“Damien! We’re here. Let’s get you to bed.”

"Or. I lay down right here." I suggest, so, so tired.

“I swear, Damien…” He tugs on my hand.

I let him pull me inside, and we go up the stairs slowly.

It's really late… And my parents are already in bed.

Thank God.

He leads me into my room.

"Thank you." I tell him.

“For what? Telling you you’re a dumb-ass and having to baby you?”

"No. I don't like that. Coming with me. I don't want to be alone." I admit.

It's easier to... _forget_ around him.

“Then why did you keep trying to leave?”

"We've been over this," I say, flopping onto my couch, "You deserve better than me, but you don't think so, but I think so. We just will argue about it forever."

He sits down beside me. “Right… You realize I would have nothing without you?”

I close my eyes. "Don't leave me."

“I can’t. I physically can’t go anywhere right now.”

"Good. Stay here." I peek over at him, grabbing his hand again.

I shut my eyes. "I…I love you..." I say quietly, "And I’m sorry. For thinking that way sometimes. If I could stop it, I would."

“I understand...just...don’t say it anymore. Don’t drink. Please.”

"...I won't say it anymore." Is all I promise.

He doesn't seem too happy with that answer, but it doesn’t matter because very soon after that, I fall asleep with his hand in my own.

End


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28-

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Wednesday, October 13th- 

Damien makes everything more complicated. 

I don’t know what the hell was up with him last night. 

Why did he seem so afraid? What is there to be afraid of when you’re someone like him?

Then he fell asleep on the couch...after begging me to stay with him…

As if he thinks I could help him with anything scary.

That’s why I have to keep trying.

I think, if I hadn’t gotten involved with him in the first place, we wouldn’t have this problem. But I don’t know how I could have pushed him away any more than I did.

I only told him to leave me alone like...a hundred times. 

Funny. It’s as if he _loves me_ , or something.

... _ Yeah _ …

I wonder if he set an alarm for school. 

I check my phone. 

_ 6:52 _ .

From home, I would be leaving soon. But I don’t know what time he needs to get up to drive there. I haven’t ever asked, or cared to pay attention to it.

It never mattered because he always took care of it.

Maybe he will wake up naturally…? 

Or maybe I should wake him up and ask when we need to leave…?

I prod at his side a few times.

“Damien…”

Nothing.

Is he  _ alive _ ?

I shift a bit, moving closer in an attempt to see him better.

Meh. He’s breathing. That’s good.

“Hey, Damien,” I begin, “Wake up. I have to ask you something.”

...What the fuck?

I poke his face.

**_Interesting_ ** .

I could tell he was a deep sleeper, but...wow.

“What the hell, Damien? This is weird as fuck. No kidding.” I laugh.

_ I could say anything _ …

I grab his face between both hands. “Wake up, dumb-ass.”

His eyes open. "Don't call me a  _ dumb-ass _ ." He mutters, half asleep.

“It’s what you are.” I insist. 

I squish his face between my hands when he doesn’t immediately respond.

"Right. Whatever." He says sleepily.

“What time do we leave for school?” I don’t release him, since he doesn’t protest.

"Uh… **_never_ ** . I quit. They don't pay me enough anyway." He yawns.

“I was going to question how you’re getting paid at school, but I assume you just harass teachers and other students until they give you money.”

I remember in sixth grade. Where the thing bullies did was steal lunch money.

Yeah… I hope they got a good laugh out of the fact that I didn’t have any, so they couldn’t do anything to me.

"Yep. Gimme all your  _ three dollars _ Josiah."

“I don’t have **_three dollars_ ** . I have **one dollar and twenty seven cents** .”

"Oh," He says, shutting his eyes again, "Well. Do you want me to give you three dollars so I can take it from you?"

“Sounds good. Very exciting. What if I take your money instead though? Wouldn’t that be more interesting? After all, what do  **you** need **_more money_ ** for?”

"Sure. Take what you want," He leans a bit and just hands me his wallet, "Now shut the hell up I'm napping."

I put the wallet into my sleeve.

“If you get up, I’ll kiss you.” I tell him.

"What time is it? I don’t even remember half of last night…" He groans.

“That’s because you were being a dumb-ass last night. It’s 7:00. Last chance to get up for a kiss.” I offer, pulling away and standing.

"...But we don't have to get up till like 7:30…." He says, getting up anyway, "Kiss, please."

“We get up now and we have breakfast. Then we can leave when you want to. C’mere.” I somehow manage to grab his shirt collar and pull him down enough to peck his lips.

He instantly puts a hand on my waist and I shove it away as soon as he touches me. 

You think he would catch on.

He sighs, " _ Josiah _ …"

“We’re working up. Holding hands, hugging on the couch, and little kisses. It’s getting better.” I point out.

I don’t think it’ll ever be how he wants it to be, but…

That’s his problem. Not mine.

"Yeah… Okay."

Good. It’s too early to be thinking about that bullshit anyways.

“Let’s have breakfast and go. Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

"Didn't you pack any more clothes?"

“Yes. Give me one of your shirts, please.”

"... _ Why _ ?" He asks suspiciously.

I drop his wallet onto the couch and start fidgeting with my sleeves.

“So I can… Because…um…” I look down at the floor, “Because your c-clothes smell like y-you…”

"Jesus Christ. Quit being so fucking adorable." 

“What?” I question, forcing myself to turn my eyes back to him.

"You're the cutest person I've ever met." He says, holding something out to me.

“What did I do that was  **_cute_ ** ?” I question.

I need to know for the next time he gets mad. Being cute makes him act really nice.

"I don't know. It just was. Here. A shirt." He says.

I take it from him and look over it. “What’s it say?” I ask, unwilling to read it.

"It’s a Black Veil Brides shirt."

“Is that one of your  **_edgy_ ** bands?” I smile up at him.

"I don't think you would like it. If that's what you mean by  _ edgy _ ."

“Yeah, that’s  **_edgy_ ** . Like, they wear all black and yell instead of singing.” 

He laughs. "Sure. They're  **_edgy_ ** ."

“Cool. Maybe bullies will see and be afraid of me.” I say.

"Bullies?! Who's  _ still _ bullying. you? Give me names."

“ **Everyone** …?” I shrug, “I’m not giving you names. You’ll hurt people.”

"I guess I have to fight  **_everyone_ ** ."

“Don’t  _ fight  _ **_anyone_ ** . I’m going to go change. You should make breakfast now, or we’ll end up being late.”

"After last night, I don't think I could eat anything without throwing it back up...but I can make you something. What do you want?"

“Oh. Just make me a Pop-Tart. Go on downstairs. I’ll meet you there.” I say, grabbing my bag.

"Okay." He says, leaving the room.

…

As soon as I come downstairs, Damien hands me a strawberry Pop-Tart.

After spending my teen years thus far eating so many of these, I have determined that strawberry is the best.

And it’s  _ fruit _ . So if Damien ever decides to argue that it isn’t  _ real food _ , that’s my defense.

“Do I look cute?” I ask him.

He thinks for a moment before answering. "The cutest. You look way better in my clothes than I do. That's for sure."

“Nah. I’m sure you’ll look cute after you’re ready to go, too. It’s 7:12.” I check my phone.

"Alright. I'll be right back." He runs up the stairs.

He runs up and down those stairs like he doesn’t actually believe they’re as dangerous as he makes them out to be when we’re talking about them. 

For some reason, he believes they’re significantly more dangerous for me than they are for him.

I don’t  _ see  _ why…

I smile to myself and lean against the counter, eating the Pop-Tart. 

He comes rushing back down the steps a while later, going just as fast as he went going up them.

“Ready?” I ask softly.

"Yeah. Are you?"

“Yup. I really like the fact that I’m coming back here after. I like this whole  _ staying here all the time  _ thing.”

"I do, too. I wish my parents weren't total assholes, or you could stay  **forever** … I mean, stay here a lot...not  _ forever… _ Uh…"

“ _ Forever _ works, too. I think I would miss home, though. Wouldn’t you…? If you moved out?” 

"No."

“You would miss Pierre.” I chuckle.

I don’t understand how he wouldn’t miss all of  **this** . This place is so nice.

"I'll visit Pierre all the time. He's all I would miss, anyway. You're right."

“You don’t think you would miss, like...your room? Sleeping in your bed?” 

I guess he would have the same things, if he wanted to...but they wouldn’t carry the sentimental value I would expect  _ home  _ to have.

"Not really. I can just take some of the stuff with me. And get new stuff. It's not a big deal."

I follow him as he starts heading to the garage.

“I would miss my house. I...actually don’t think I could live anywhere else. I’ve been there my whole life. Moving would be  **scary** .” I decide.

Not that I would ever have the means to move out, but…

I think about it sometimes.

"It could be scary. But think about all the fun stuff you can do on your own."

“I can’t really... **_do_ ** ...anything. But I guess so. I think I could blast music really loud. At least, for a while... Then it would probably be scary, too. Because it would be so loud.” I ramble.

"Well. You can  **eat** , for starters."

“I can do that with you. I don’t have to move out for that, I just have to ask you.” I point out.

I don’t even need to ask. 

Actually, even when I say  _ no _ , he gives me stuff anyway.

"Yeah. It’s not enough, though. And you can have me over all the time."

“We should move in with each other. I couldn’t go anywhere by myself anyways. You have a lot of money; We could do it.” I suggest.

"I won't have a lot of money when I leave here. I'll be in college anyway. Where do you want to go to school?"

“Can’t you just bring all of your parents’ money with you?” I ignore his question.

I don’t like thinking of my future…

"That's not how it works, unfortunately. I have some saved back that I can take but I sure as fuck won't be  **_rich_ ** . I'm getting the hell away from here."

“So, you can spend their money now, but you won’t be able to bring any with you when you move out…?” I question, “How does that work?”   
"Because when I move out, I’m never talking to them again. I'll be disowned, I’m sure. And I'll have to hide from them forever." He says nonchalantly.

“It sounds like you’re better off not leaving… Same here.  _ Leaving  _ just complicates things.”

"I might not have a choice."

Right…

“You **always** _have a choice_.” I correct.

"No. I don't." 

“There’s no way you  **_don’t_ ** .”

"You don't get it. I don't expect you to," Is all he says before changing the subject, "We need to head out."

I glare at him.

I don’t know how he expects me to just  **_let that go_ ** , but whatever…

…

I have never paid less attention during school.

I just spent the whole time being tired, bored, and distracted by everything…

There’s so much  **_shit_ ** going on right now.

So much that I don’t even want to pay attention in classes…

Not that it matters. I do better by repeatedly reading the material anyway. 

Teachers lecturing just makes me want to tell them to shut up, or often I have to correct them when they’re wrong, which sometimes they like and sometimes they hate… And chalkboards never help at all anyway.

I almost fell asleep twice during math, which is strange.

Could it be...because I stayed up last night, keeping an eye on Damien? And also playing games on my phone?

_ Perhaps _ ...?

I blame Damien.

“Josiah,” Alexa stops me after school, which is never good, “Hey, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m about to leave. What do you want?” I ask.

“You’re getting into a lot of risky stuff. What the fuck are you doing?”

“With Damien Cohen or with Logan Haas?” I question.

“Both. They’re bad luck. Don’t surround yourself with such shitty people. They’ll hurt you.” She tells me.

“Damien won’t.” I argue.

“I’m just telling you, Josiah. I’m not going to bring Aunt Dahlia into this any more than she already is, but… Just know that she could find out if you keep having them bring you home. Once she stops and thinks about it for a second, she’ll realize.  **I can’t protect you** .” She says.

“If she does anything, I’ll just leave.”

“And go  _ where _ ? Maybe you don’t realize it, but she gives you  **a lot** . No one else will just take care of you, Josiah.” 

I cross my arms. “You don’t know that.”

She is silent for a second, before grabbing my wrist when I go to leave.

“Did Damien give you that?” She asks softly.

I look down at the shirt and nod. “Yeah…”

“Be careful around him. I’m serious. And don’t hang around Logan anymore. Okay?”

“I’m figuring everything out. Don’t worry about me.”

She lets go of me. “I just want to make sure you’re careful. I would hate to turn on the news and learn they killed you, or something. And...tell me when you’re spending the night. No more of that spontaneous shit that happened last night.” 

Why does any of this matter to her…?

“Okay, I will.” I lie. 

She’s so back and forth. Sometimes she wants me to be safe, but sometimes she says dad should have killed me…

I don’t understand her. Or Avery. But at least Avery doesn’t usually even try to be nice.

Maybe I’ll figure them out someday.

…

“Study time.” I say as I sit on the couch.

"Nap time." He retorts.

I lean against him. “ _ Nap time _ .” I say in a  _ hypnotized _ -type voice.

"Oh my God, for real?"

“You have no idea how tired I am.” I nod a bit.

"Did you get much sleep last night?"

“I did not sleep last night. You did, though. A lot.” I giggle.

"I was  **tired** !" He protests.

“Me, too.” I shrug.

"Then why didn't you sleep?"

“I was watching you to make sure you were okay,” I murmur, “And  _ sleeping  _ doesn’t always feel entirely _ safe _ …”

"Oh. Well you don't have to worry about anything."

“I always worry. I was trained since I was really little that sleeping is very vulnerable.” I cuddle up against him.

"Oh. Well you don't have to worry about anything. I'm here." He says softly.

I know…but he sleeps like a brick…

“Right…exactly.” I mumble against him.

"I love you, Josiah."

"I love you, too." I just wish I could trust him... I've never felt that comfortable with anyone though. "Can I tell you about something?" I ask. 

"Anything." 

"A lot of times, when I'm sleeping, I have scary dreams. Does that happen to you?" 

"Sometimes. But not very often… You did that the first time you stayed here." 

"Yeah, I know, but..." I curl up a bit, "It happens a lot. And then I start freaking out even though it isn't real and..." I sigh deeply. 

I don't like freaking out in front of him.

"It's not that I'm worried what y-you'll think. I don't know what it is. I-I just...don't wanna f-freak out around you." I try to describe. 

"It doesn't bother me. You don't have to try and hide it or anything. You can't control it." 

"Then why does it feel like I need to stop myself, or not even sleep so nothing happens...?" 

"I don't know why it feels that way. But really. You should just try and sleep some. You seem really tired." 

"I am v-very...tired. Good things don't happen while s-sleeping, though. Only b-bad things." Very bad, scary things that are even scarier when I wake up... 

"You have to sleep sometime." 

"It's hard to sleep with people around, though."

"I can leave, if it helps." 

"No, don't. I just... I don't know. I wanted to warn you for future reasons. And when you want to start sleeping in bed, I just can't do it..."

"It's okay. I don't mind. Really." 

"Okay. And you won't get mad when I start waking up with freak outs in the middle of the night?" 

"No. I won't. I fall back to sleep really quickly." 

I force a nod. "Alright... I'm going to try to sleep here." I tell him. 

"Okay. I'll stay put, then." 

I shut my eyes and try to relax, curled up against him. 

My brain tries to remind me of the hundreds of things he could do when I'm caught off guard... But  _ why _ ?

I don't think he would do anything. He keeps promising that he won't. 

This happens every time I try to rest here. 

I open my eyes for a second to check on him. 

Why don't I trust him? 

"I love you a lot." I say. 

I don't think I know what love is…

"I love you, too. Now go to sleep." 

If I can't sleep, at the very least, I should relax... The closer I get to him, the more afraid I am. Because if he does something, it's... _ someone I love _ who is hurting me. 

It's not like the bullies at school.

It's like my dad.

It's  **so** different... So much worse.

I close my eyes again. I don't need to check on him...I can feel him anyways. 

"Don't do anything to me, please." 

I don't know what I would do if he did something... 

He won't. 

I shouldn't even say it. 

"I would never do anything to hurt you. Promise." 

"Thank you..." 

... 

Next thing I know, I can't breathe or move. I don't even remember what the dream was, I just know that it was  _ horrifying _ . 

And probably real...  **_Definitely real_ ** ... 

My head hurts like crazy.

"S-Stop...stop..." I manage, barely getting myself to stop screaming. My whole body is shaking. I can't feel my fingers. 

Fuck... 

" _ Wake up! _ It’s just a dream, Josiah..." 

I try to pry my eyes open to find the source of the voice, but I can't see anything...even more so than usual. 

"Stop yelling! D-Don't... I'm s-sorry..." I shiver. 

I don't know what I'm talking about…

I don't know what's going on... 

"Everything’s okay. You're in my room. With me.  **Everything's fine** ." 

I know that voice…

It's comforting. It's nice. 

It's  **_good_ ** . 

"Damien?" I ask shakily. 

"Yeah. It's me. I'm right here beside you. Everything’s fine. Whatever it was, it wasn't real." 

**_It was real_ ** . 

I gain the ability to move and immediately start pulling my hair. 

"I-I was bad..." I cry, trying to get my dad's voice out of my head to focus on Damien instead, "Help..."

"Don't pull your hair." He says softly.    
"You weren't bad. It's okay."

"D-D-Damien... I'm b-bad. I'm in...in trouble." I stammer. 

"No. You're not  _ bad _ . And you're not in trouble. It was just a bad dream, Josiah." 

"The rules." My voice cracks and I drop my head into my hands. 

I keep breaking rules... 

What am I doing?! I need to stop this as soon as possible! 

"The rules don't matter right now. Right now, you're here with me. Just focus on that."

"When dad c-c-comes back, I-I... He'll be s-s mad. Dammit... I f-fucked up." 

He's going to kill me. He  **_should_ ** ... 

**_Two years_ ** . I have _ two years _ to correct these behaviors…

"Don't worry about that. By then, you and me will be living in our own place, and you won’t have  _ rules _ ."

I shake my head. "N-No... No, I-I'll be his. H-He'll destroy m-me..."

"No. You'll be  _ mine _ . He won’t do  **anything** to you. I won't let it happen. You're safe. With me."

I look up at him. 

He's too close…

He's...too far...? 

"But I m-miss him..." I mumble. 

Same as being away from home... It's so  _ bittersweet _ .

"You can see him. But you can stay with me." "I'm going t-to b-be...in s-so much trouble." I insist, because I know what's going to happen. 

All of my rules… I've broken nearly every one. 

"I-I don't like b-being hit..." I wince. 

"No one’s going to hit you." 

"But I d-don't know h-how to s-stop being bad." 

"Don't worry about any of this right now. Right now, we need to just relax. Nothing can be changed tonight." 

"Mom...used to s-say, _ it's just how I-I am _ ..." I try to shake it off, but can't, "I want...h-hugs." 

"Do you want me to hug you? And you're not bad. They're wrong." 

I try to grab him, but he's apparently not as close as I thought. 

"M-Mom said...no p-punishments, because I-I won't change...but I want t-to change. I w-wanna be g-good. Hug...please..." 

I hate thinking of her. The only things I remember from her are the things in pictures, and the things dad reminded me of... And how she made me feel safe…

He pulls me into a hug. "You are  **good** , Josiah."

I curl my fingers into the front of his shirt, trying to keep him from being able to leave. 

"I'm not... I'm  **_bad_ ** ...and s-scared." 

"You're safe." He murmurs softly. 

I'll never be safe. 

I snuggle against him. "I'm trapped g-getting hurt over and over again. I c-can't make it s-stop." Neither can he. 

"I...I wish I could help."

I feel like I'll always cling to people who hurt me... 

"Just don't hurt m-me." I sigh.

"I won't. I can promise you that." 

He always promises that. 

I relax as much as I can, getting my body to stop shaking. 

"...Did you s-sleep? Did I-I wake you up?" I ask weakly. 

"You did. But I don't mind. I like hugs."

"Aunt Dahlia puts m-me in the c-closet when I do this..." I tell him, "Thank you for hugs." 

_ Thank you for not being like any of them... _

" _ She puts you in a...closet _ ? That's fucked up." 

"Always. Then I-I can't sleep, and school is h-harder. I don't like it." I clutch onto him tighter. 

"Hey. You shouldn't have to worry about anything. It's just us. You can try to get some sleep and recharge while you're here. I wish that I could keep you here forever."

I want to ask if I can stay tonight, but after what Alexa said... 

"C-Can I stay here again...?"    
Fuck it. I'm in loads of trouble anyways. 

"If...If it's okay with you." I add. 

"Yeah. Of course it is. You can stay tonight. It's already getting late."

"...Can you play the guitar for a bit?" It relaxes me. I can't explain why. 

"Um… Yeah. I guess." He pulls away.

I feel less suffocated, but more panicky. 

"I like m-music," I say, curling my fingers into the shirt I'm wearing, "Not yelling, though. I don't s-see the appeal." I force a chuckle. 

"I wasn't planning on yelling...but I don't know a lot of songs that don’t yell..." He admits, sitting back down beside me. 

"You know what you should do? Play and sing one of the yelling songs, but fix it." I suggest. 

"I could try... I’ve never thought of that before. I guess if I slowed the tempo and..." He mutters. 

"Good luck." I offer. 

" **_Thanks_ ** ." He says before he starts slowly strumming the guitar. 

I rub my eyes. 

My heart is finally starting to calm down. 

I think the music helps more than hugs, because  _ hugs  _ are  **_suffocating_ ** . But I'm not going to tell him that, because he would be confused and start asking questions.

I wish I still had music at home. 

Why can't this place just be home instead? 

I lean against the back of the couch and watch him play. 

Within minutes, I catch myself falling asleep again, feeling just a bit safer this time. 

I wonder if we'll ever get any studying done again. 

End


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29- 

Damien's P.O.V.

-Thursday, October 14th-

“Damien, are you even listening to me?” My mother complains, pulling me out of my thoughts.

If she knew I was thinking about Josiah right now… 

I don’t want to even think about how horrible it would be if she found out about us.

Dad wouldn’t like it, but mom would try to fucking  _ cast the devil out of me _ , or whatever.

**Psycho** .

I focus back on the admin work they have laid out on the desk.

It’s so fucking boring, all of the business side of it…

Well, it would be  _ interesting _ , if I wasn’t busy worrying about Josiah.

“I’m listening, go ahead.” I say to her. 

She nods. “Anyway, we want you to come along on a business trip with us next weekend. We’re just tying up a few loose ends on a deal, moving some old shipments out of our warehouse, if possible.”

... _ Leave _ ?

“For the whole weekend?”

My dad nods. “Yes. The sooner you get a grasp on all of this, the sooner I can retire.” He laughs.

Right…

_ What if I don't want to be in this business? _ I think.

I smile at them. “Right. So is that what we’re starting tonight? Prepping for the trip? Where are we going?”

“Puerto Rico.” My mom replies, calling the secretary up from her desk, who’s carrying another pile of papers with her.

Jesus Christ. This is supposed to be a fucking drugs and ammuntions deal, not some sort of actual  **legal** shit, but my dad likes to have all his bases covered. 

“You want me to _ fly with you guys to Puerto Rico over the weekend _ ?” I can’t be hearing this right…

What if Josiah needs me? If I’m not here for him, then…

Before I can answer, my phone starts vibrating in my pocket.

Shit. I’m sure it’s Josiah, no one else would be calling me.

“Okay, I’m going to go...use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

I leave the room and go into the bathroom, making sure it’s empty.

As soon as it is, I call Josiah back.

“Damien.” A low voice that I can’t quite identify says as soon as they answer.

It’s not Josiah, I sure as fuck know that much.

“Who is this?” I ask warily, not ready to have to inevitably sneak out of here and get in a load of trouble with my parents.

“It’s Logan. What’s up, bud?” He laughs.

“What the fuck are you doing with Josiah’s phone?”

“We’re hanging out. You have a problem with that?”

“Bullshit. Put him on the phone right now!” I demand.

“He’s a little busy right now. Maybe call back later…?”

“Why the fuck did you call me then? Put him on the phone right now, Logan, or I swear to god, I will  **kill you** .”

“Josiah, do you want to talk to Damien? ...He says he doesn’t want to. Sorry, man.”

“Where are you, Logan?” I say, ready to strangle him through the fucking phone.

“Does it matter? Ethan told me all about how you’re always busy Tuesdays and Thursdays. That’s why we’ve been doing  _ this _ like  **_this_ ** .”

_ Doing this like this… _ ?

Oh my god, that’s who took Josiah out behind the school… Everything’s making sense...

Why the fuck would he trust Logan at all?!

“Put him on the fucking phone right now, or they won’t even be able to find your  **body** .” I growl.

“Alright, fine. Chill.” 

There’s some shuffling noise. 

“Damien?” Josiah says.

“Josiah?! Thank God! Did they hurt you? Is it just Logan, or all three of them…?”

“N-No, I’m fine. I’ve got it under c-control… Don’t worry.”

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you right now.”

“No. You’re busy with family s-stuff…  **_Don’t worry_ ** .”

“It just ended,” I lie, “ **Where are you** ?!”

They’re going to hurt him. I know they will.

I start to sneak out of the building, running down the stairs this time, taking them two at a time.

“I don’t know…?”

“Find out. Or put Logan on the phone. I’m coming to get you.”

“Damien, you’ll  **do** something.”

“I’m doing something if I show up tonight or not. Tell me where you are right now!”

If Ethan and Hunter are involved… I might not make it there in time before he gets seriously hurt.

“They’re not doing anything… You don’t need to…”

I run out of the front of the building. “ _They’re_ _not doing anything_ **_yet_** _…_ Are Ethan and Hunter there, too?”

“Y-Yeah, but…” He pauses for a second, “They want you to c-come, so I don’t think you should.”

“Give the phone to  **Ethan** .” I say darkly. I’m going to kill him.

“Okay, I will…  **Don’t do anything** .”

“Wait… I love you,” I say, not promising anything, “Don’t say it back, they’ll hear you.”

“Doesn’t matter. I love you, too.” 

There’s some shuffling again and Ethan answers the phone.

“Cohen! We have your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking aware, dumb-ass. Where the fuck are you?”

“We’re at our house, in the garage. I’ll save you a few beers.”

He sounds drunk as fuck already.

“You better not hurt him, Ethan, or I’ll kill you. I’m not kidding,  **_I will_ ** .”

I hang up on them before he can respond.

I start my bike and drive as quickly as I can in that direction.

…

I park on the road and go into the garage, slamming the door behind me.

They have Josiah sitting between Ethan and Logan at the table, and he has blood, like, all over him.

Hunter is just playing darts in the corner.

Before I can do anything, Ethan holds up his beer. “Damien! Come join us, we’re just getting to know your little **_boyfriend_** here.”

Logan puts a hand on Josiah’s arm, as if to stop him from running off.

I don’t leave the doorway, trying to figure out my best move here.

“Don’t touch me-” Josiah starts, trying to push Logan away, just making him hold on tighter.

“Let him go, Logan.” I say, walking over to the table, hands in fists, ready to make him let go.

“No way. Especially not since it makes both of you so mad.” He grins.

I walk over and smack Logan’s beer out of his hand. I then grab him by the arm and pull him up and away from Josiah.

“You have ten seconds to get the fuck out of here.” I warn him.

Logan looks to Ethan, as if for help and Ethan laughs. “Get out of it yourself. You were the one who thought we should call Damien.”

“What? No! That was your idea…” Logan starts.

I throw a right hook, and hit him in the eye.

He stumbles back, putting a hand on his face. “Fuck this. It’s not worth it right now.” He mutters.

He leaves. 

“ **Pussy** !” I call after him.

He slams the door behind him. 

He’s such a coward.

I turn back to the table.

“Josiah, get over here. We’re leaving.”

“I can’t…” He looks at Ethan.

“What do you want?” I ask him.

“Sit down. Both of you.” Ethan says, looking over at Hunter.

“But I’m winning!” Hunter protests.

“You’re playing against yourself. Of course you're winning.” I roll my eyes at him.

Hunter scowls and we both sit down across from them.

I try to look over Josiah from here… I think it's just his nose that was bleeding, but I can't tell.

Ethan grabs three beers and gives us each one.

Josiah just stares at his. “This is all so stupid…” He mumbles.

“Yeah. No fucking kidding...” I agree, “Why are we here?”

“We need you back, Damien.” Hunter sighs. 

“No, you fucking don’t. I’m done with you two, and you’re done fucking with  **us** ,” I say, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“You’re the one making it hard. Everything was better when you fucking  _ listened to me _ . Now you think you can just run off and do a bunch of bullshit.  **No** .” Ethan says.

I’m tempted to just chuck this beer can at his stupid ass head, but I don’t.

I have to really restrain myself.

“What will it take for you to leave us alone?” I ask, sitting the unopened can down in front of me. I know I can’t take them both in a fight, and if it was just Ethan, I would have a chance.

“When you stop referring to you two as  _ us _ , that’s when I’ll leave  **him** alone.”

I sigh and look over at Josiah. “There’s no way in hell.” I say, looking back at Ethan again.

Ethan grabs the front of Josiah’s sweater and Josiah flinches.

“Wait! Stop! Okay!” I say, putting my hands up, “Don’t hurt him! Hurt me if you have to, but don't…”

Ethan stops, not letting go of Josiah. “He’s easier, Cohen.”

Josiah looks like he’s going to cry...

“ **_Please_ ** ,” I beg, not caring about looking scary, or threatening, or whatever the hell I thought mattered, “Just let him go. I’ll do anything.”

“Ethan, maybe you should…” Hunter tries to stop him, too.

“Don’t take his side!” Ethan snaps.

Hunter is a good kid. It’s too bad his brother is insane... If I can get to Hunter…

I turn to him. “Don’t let him do this. You know it’s wrong.”

“It’s...the wrong time for this. We can’t do this right now.”

“Bullshit!” Ethan complains, pulling on Josiah.

I stand up. “ **_Let him go_ ** .”

I guess I'll have to fight them...

He stands, too, dragging Josiah with him. “Why would you abandon us to hang out with this little freak, Damien?!”

“I…” I stop, “You guys never did anything except smoke and go to lame ass parties anyway! We haven’t been **friends** since freshman year! If you were my friends, you wouldn’t care who I was with! You guys did this! Not me.”

“Damien… We were friends.” Hunter gives me a sad look.

“Then why the fuck did you abandon me as soon as I started dating him?!” I demand.

Ethan cuts in, “Because you repeatedly left us! We didn’t do this!  **You did** . You ruined  **everything** .”

“I…”

They’re not wrong…

“I shouldn’t have to listen to you all the time! You were only using me!” I argue.

“I tried helping you. Everything was okay and then you did  **this** .” He pulls at Josiah again.

“ _ Stop _ ! What do you want from me, Ethan?! Just let him go and we can handle this on our own, one on one.”

“Fine!” He shoves Josiah aside, onto the ground.

“No! Stop it, Ethan.” Hunter stands and glares at him.

I rush over to Josiah and help him up, and as soon as I do, he hides behind me a bit, holding on to the back of my shirt.

“We’re leaving. And if you guys or  _ fucking  _ **_Logan Haas_ ** mess with Josiah again, I’ll kill you, Ethan.”

I pull Josiah to the door.

Neither of them make a move to attack or stop us.

"Just fucking leave, then! We don't need you anyway. You're just a fucking faggot loser just like him." Ethan says, spitting on the ground near us. 

Rage twists inside me, but I can't hurt him right now. Not yet.

But I will beat the shit out of him as soon as he even looks in Josiah's direction again.

"Hunter. You can come with us." I say to him, feeling tears fill my eyes. He deserves better.

"No. Just... **_leave_ ** ." Hunter glares at us. 

I stare at him for a second, wanting to beg him to come with us…

"I'm sorry." I tell him before I grab Josiah's hand and pull him out the door with me.

As soon as we leave the garage, I feel tears begin to fall down my face.

"...You d-didn't have to c-come. Y-You really shouldn't have." Josiah says softly.

"Never go anywhere with any of them again." I say, hoping I don't sound like I'm crying. I wipe my eyes with my free hand and pull him toward my bike.

"I knew what I-I was doing. All you just d-did was m-make yourself upset." 

I stop and stare at him. "What was your plan? To get hurt? Because that's all that would have  **fucking** happened! I don't know why the hell you thought it was a good idea to go anywhere with them after I specifically  _ told you not to _ ! I can't lose you, Josiah! You preach about me doing stupid, reckless shit but then you go out and do this!" 

I search his face, but it's unreadable. 

I shouldn't yell at him.

I sigh. "I… I’m sorry, I just. You're all I have. I can't lose you, too." 

The tears haven't stopped. And I'm not sure if they will.

"Logan told m-me it was the only way to keep you s-safe. He s-said that, if I listened t-to him, Ethan and Hunter wouldn't be m-mean to you anymore. And if I s-stop... Damien, he'll get y-you expelled." 

"No, he won't. Logan’s all talk. And so what if he does? Nothing is more important than your safety.  **_Nothing_ ** ." I say, taking his hand again. 

I'm sure he thought he had no choice.

"I need you to promise me you won't hide things from me anymore, Josiah. And that you won't go anywhere with any of them..." I wipe my eyes again, "No matter what they say." 

"All of our hard work...w-would go to waste. If y-you get expelled. I need to m-make sure n-no one does anything to you." 

" **_Promise me_ ** , Josiah," I say, "I won't get expelled.  **_Logan's all talk_ ** ." 

I can't help if he keeps hiding stuff from me. 

"Logan is bad. If he c-can s-stop you from being a threat to h-him, he'll..." He squeezes my hand, "I c-can't promise anything..." 

"You have to," I say, pulling him to the motorcycle, "You can't be with them anymore. You're not **_helping_** by doing _this_ , Josiah..." I get on the bike and look at him, "Do you want me to take you home?"

"Not with that." 

"Josiah. I'm not leaving you here," I groan, "Please just let me take you home. Or to my house, or whatever." 

"Why would y-you ask me if you aren't g-going to listen to m-me?" 

"What do you want me to do? Leave you here with them? So they can hurt you?" 

"I do n-not and never have cared what they d-do to me. Stop m-making it into a big deal."

"It's a fucking  **huge** **_deal_ ** . I can't help if you won't let me! And I can’t live with myself if I don't help you, because all I want is for you to be happy!"

Don't cry again, Damien.

You just stopped... 

**Goddamnit** .

"I..." My voice cracks and I clear my throat. 

I can't freak out right now. Not in front of him.

I need to be strong.

I start over, "Please, Josiah. Just come home with me." 

We can figure this out later.

"Okay... But y-you need to know that if your g-goal in life is to m-make me  _ happy _ , things are never going t-to go your way." 

"It won't stop me from trying." I say as he gets on the bike and wraps his arms around me tightly.

... 

I drive him back to my place and we head upstairs.

"Let's get you cleaned up." I say, taking him into the bathroom.

I get him a different shirt; Mine’s coated in blood. I hand it to him and ask, "Is it just your nose or did they do anything else?" 

"I don't know." He mutters. 

"Can I clean the blood off your face?" I ask, wetting a washcloth in the sink, "Or do you want to?" 

"Don't touch me again." 

"Okay, then..." I say, “Then you do." I hold out the washcloth to him. 

He takes it after a moment and holds it to his nose. 

"Is there a lot of blood? D-Does it look bad?"

"It looks pretty bad..." I say to him, "Scary, even. Does it hurt?" 

"No. I like it." He claims. 

"Bullshit." 

"I can't live without  **_punishment_ ** . I  **need** to be hurt." 

"You shouldn’t have to live like that. It's fucked up," I sigh, "Are you going to talk to them again?" "You want me to say  _ no _ ." 

"Yes. I want you to never talk to any of them again because they've taken it relatively easy on you. You have to leave them alone, or you'll get really hurt. This is too dangerous." 

"You think everything is too dangerous for me.  **I like danger** ." 

I laugh. "No. You like  **_hugs_ ** . And  **_cookies_ ** ." 

"I do like those things. But I like things that I actually deserve, too. Danger is important."

I shake my head. "I can't wait until I get to a point in my life when I'm  **happy** ."

_ Yeah right. Like I'll make it that long _ .

“Good luck.”

He wipes the blood off of him and I hand him another one of my shirts. 

"You ruined that one." I explain to him.

He takes it. “Sorry.” 

"It's fine. I'm going to go change out of my dress clothes." I say, leaving him alone.

I quickly change, and Josiah joins me in my room, giving me the ruined shirt.

I just throw it away, then I check my phone.

Shit.

"My parents tried to call me like fifteen times," I say to him, "They have to be pissed."

“About what? What did you do?”

"I snuck out of the meeting and came here. They don't know where I am."

“What?! Why would you do that?”

"Why the fuck do you think I did that?! To save your ass from the situation  **you** put yourself in!"

“That’s because you’re dumb. You don’t leave family to go do dumb shit.”

"They could  **kill** you, Josiah! Don't you get that?! What will it take to get that through your skull?! You never listen to me!"

My phone rings in my hand, but I ignore it, staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t care! And I don’t have to listen to you.  _ You’re not my dad _ , dumb-ass.”

"Yeah, I’m not your dad, because I fucking  **care** about you."

I immediately regret saying that, but it's too late.

My phone rings again.

“ **Don’t say that.** ” 

"Then don't say you  _ don't care _ whether you live or die!"

The phone is still ringing.

I can't take this…

I throw it against the wall and Josiah flinches.

I stare at it on the floor.

It rings again.

I didn't throw it hard enough, apparently.

Josiah says nothing, just staring at me in terror.

I go and retrieve my phone, answering it this time, putting it on speaker. 

I don’t care anymore.

Maybe she'll give away everything.

" _ Damien Michael _ ! Where are you?!" My mom screeches into the phone.

I grimace. "There was an emergency…” I mutter.

" **_Nothing_ ** is more important than family!" She says, " **_Nothing_ ** **other than** **_God_ ** . So unless  **_God_ ** called you to leave, you better have one hell of a good excuse!"

" _He_ _did_?" I try.

"BULLSHIT,  **_HE DID_ ** ." She yells so loudly into the phone that I have to hold it away from me.

"Fine, then. I have no excuse." I admit. 

"Me and your father are on our way home right now. You better have one ready by then." She says, hanging up the phone.

I look over at Josiah. 

"Should I take you home? They won't know you're here if you want to stay… I'm sorry for yelling."

I don't want him to leave.

“I don’t want to be  **_here_ ** .”

"Right. I… I’ll take you home."

It’s better this way. Who knows what my mom is going to do?

“Okay. I’m sorry for making you mad…” He says softly.

I sigh. "No. I shouldn't have said that about your dad. That was fucked up. I'm the one who needs to be apologizing. I don't want to fight with you."

“No, I keep making you mad.  **I’m sorry** .” 

"It's fine. Just,  _ please _ , for the love of God, leave Logan and all of them alone, and if they approach you,  **call me** ."

“I don’t want you to keep hurting them…”

"I won't unless they start it. How about that?"

“Okay. But them  _ starting it _ is if they hurt you first. Not  _ me _ .  **_You_ ** .”

"No,  _ wait… _ ”

“What?”

"That's not fair. If they hurt you, I have to hurt them back. Or I'm a **_bad_** **_boyfriend_**."

“That’s my job, not yours. Protect yourself. That doesn’t make you  _ bad _ , it’s what I want you to do.”

"Nope. I’m fine. I'm going to protect you."

“You can’t hurt people to  _ protect _ me. That’s not okay.”

"Too bad. We have to leave soon, if you want to go."

“Okay, then. Let’s go.”

I grab my keys and phone and we get in the car.

I won’t make him touch me after all of this.

When we get to his house, I say, "Josiah. Please. Don't go anywhere with them."

“I’m going to do whatever is best, but I will consider your input.”

I groan and lean my head on the steering wheel.

"You're impossible, you know that? Good thing you're an amazing person, or you wouldn't be worth all this trouble." I joke.

“I’m not  _ amazing _ . Obviously, because I’m  _ impossible _ and  _ trouble _ .”

"Not what I said. I said you're **more** _amazing_ than you are _impossible_ and _trouble_. Don't put words in my mouth."

“You’re just wrong.”

"My opinion of you can’t be wrong. Everyone’s entitled to an opinion. Your opinion is that you’re impossible. My opinion is that you're very cute and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. So there." 

I stick my tongue out at him, then remember he's blind.

"I stuck my tongue out at you to prove my point, by the way." I tell him.

“That’s juvenile, your opinion is wrong. And are we studying tomorrow, or…?”

"Whatever, nerd. And yeah. We should. That quiz is coming up…”

Shit.

Another thing to worry about.

I sigh, "I don't want to go home."

“Then don’t. Go somewhere else.”

"I don't have anywhere else to go," I admit, "I should face this head on, anyway. I'll see you tomorrow morning. I love you."

He opens his car door. “Okay… Be safe. I love you, too.”

I make sure he gets inside, not that it’s any safer for him in there, before I speed home.

…

I wait for my parents on the bottom of the stairs.

As soon as they come in, I stand, ready to take whatever the fuck’s coming my way.

My mom stomps over to me and looks up at me, furious.

"What the hell was more important?!  _ Huh _ ?"

"I can’t tell you." I decide.

If they knew…

She looks  **furious** .

Dad just hangs back and lets her go.

That’s all he ever does when mom loses her shit.

She smacks me in the mouth, and I let her.

I could easily physically overpower her, but I wouldn’t. Because she's my mom. But I won't just take shit from her.

"Don’t do that again." I warn her.

"I am your mother! You will not tell me what to do!"

Normally, I just take it.

It doesn't hurt that much anyway...except that time when she threw a vase at me.

That one stung.

But I'm PISSED.

I’m not dealing with this shit tonight.

She goes to hit me again and I grab her wrist, stopping her.

" **_Don't_ ** ." I warn.

"Or  _ what _ ?! You wouldn't hurt me. You're not man enough to face facts and get through your opponents. You're  **weak** . And your father lets you get away with too much! You will be a part of this family, and you will like it!"

"What  **_family_ ** ?!" I snap, "We're not a  **_family_ ** ! We're a  **company** ! Don't you dare act like you guys had me for any other reason except an eventual retirement plan!"

My dad scowls and intervenes, pulling my mom’s wrist out of my grasp.

Now, him…

He would be a lot harder to overpower.

"Damien. That’s not true. We love you."

**_Lies_ ** .

They just want someone to fill in when they die.

"Bullshit. If you loved me, you would ask me what I want! Maybe I don't want to be a part of this! But I have no fucking choice! I'm an accomplice since birth! Not that you guys would care what I want anyway."

I stomp up the stairs.

"We're not done with you!" My mom yells.

"Let him go." My dad says to her.

I don't hear the rest.

I go into my room and lock it.

I then go to my closet and get into my secret stash of alcohol I've started keeping up here.

It's easier.

I open my first bottle and try not to worry about anything…

_ Not about them... _

_ Or the company... _

_ Or Josiah... _

_ Or my future... _

_ Or my old friends… _

**_Nothing_ ** .

But, as hard as I try, I can't quit worrying.

It’s like all the worries just keeps snowballing into other worries until I'm climbing out my window and onto my roof, a new bottle in hand.

I sit on the edge and blast music in my earbuds, drinking and trying to drown it all out.

I stare up at the stars, wishing I could talk to someone and get this off my chest.

Josiah is my first thought, but I have to be so gentle with him.

I'm always afraid I'll break him.

God… I can't keep this up.

It's not in my nature to be gentle.

But I can't live without him.

**_I can't_ ** .

I look up at the stars and shiver.

It's starting to get cold out.

Maybe if I'm lucky, I can keep my head above water until I graduate...

Just survive until I graduate…

That’s all I have to do.

Then I'm out of here. And if Josiah wants to come, he can.

But I can't be a part of any of this anymore.

The stress keeps pushing and pushing, and no matter how much I try, I can't quit worrying.

All I want to do is  **sleep** .

But,  **_I can't_ ** . I need to figure out what to do with Ethan and Logan.

What if they hurt Josiah?

I don't care what Josiah says, if any of them touch a hair on his head, I'm going to  **kill them** .

I've never been this angry before.

Maybe if I drink enough, I'll pass out...

…

-Friday, October 15th-

I didn't sleep at all last night. I just drank and contemplated why the hell I haven't ran away yet.

Or what's really keeping me here.

**_Josiah_ ** .

If it wasn't for him…

I don't want to think about that again.

I have to get to school.

I drink my coffee as I park across the street from Josiah’s house.

I didn't bother trying to look  _ scary _ today, I'm just in my dark jeans and a plain grey pullover sweatshirt, the hood pulled up and my aviator sunglasses on.

_ Everything’s too loud and too bright _ …

That's just the hangover talking.

I send him a quick text to tell him I’m here, and he's out of his house and in my car in a few minutes.

He's still in my shirt.

It looks better on him anyway.

"Nice shirt." I say, holding back a yawn. 

I'm exhausted. I doubt I'll be able to pay much attention in class today.

“Thanks. I got it from a dumb-ass...who I love a lot.”

I force a smile.

Not that he can see it.

All I want to do is go home and go to bed.

I was tempted to just pretend to be sick, but I can't risk leaving Josiah at school alone.

I stay silent for just a bit too long.

"Well that dumb-ass has good taste." I manage.

“Not really, but sure.”

" **Ouch** ." I laugh, starting toward school.

I stay silent for a while, not able to quit worrying about what my mom said yesterday, and what Ethan and Hunter are doing…

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He asks.

"No." I admit. I'm still hungover as fuck, too.

Not that he needs to know that.

“Did you get in trouble…?”

"Nothing I couldn't handle. Everything is fine. Don’t worry about it."

**Nothing's fine.**

“You don’t listen to me when I say any of that. Should I believe you?”

_ Not at all. _

But, the last time I told him how I felt, he cried.

"Yes. Because it is."

Hopefully I'm getting better at lying.

“Okay. I guess we’re all just lying now. Cool.” He sighs. 

Shit.

"Last time I told you what was going on, you told me to never talk about it again!" I sigh, "I don't want you to worry about anything else."

“I don’t want you to worry about anything, either. Does that mean I can lie, too?”

"Well, no."

“Bullshit.”

"Fine. I haven't slept in a week and I'm constantly on edge, and I drink every fucking night, and all I want to do is make everything  **stop,** but I can't. I’ve never felt so powerless and I hate it!" I snap.

He pauses for a moment before responding.

I shouldn't have said anything.

“I don’t think you want to  _ make  _ **_everything_ ** _ stop _ .”

"Yes, I do." I admit quietly.

“There’s always good things. The trick is to find one good thing and focus on that and never let that thing go.”

"What if that  _ one good thing _ wants to die, too? Then what?" I feel tears fill my eyes for what seems like the millionth time.

My mom was right.

I'm  **weak** .

“Don’t let it.”

"I...I don't know how to love you without hurting you."

All I do is hurt him.

Over and over and over again.

“Do you love me right now?”

"I love you every second."

“You’ve  **never** hurt me.”

"Yes, I have. I yell at you and I lie to you and I make you cry. That's  **hurting** you. I've never hit you. But I've  _ hurt _ you."

“That’s not  _ hurting _ .  _ Hurting _ would involve  **_getting hurt_ ** .”

I sigh, "It doesn't matter. Forget I said anything. I'll be fine."

I just need to sleep.

And take care of Ethan.

As soon as I take care of Ethan, a lot of my problems will disappear.

“If it helps, you’re my  _ one good thing _ . I need you. I love you a lot.” 

"It does help. Thank you."

It made me feel a little better. But it didn't help anything else.

We get to school, and before he can leave, I stop him.

"Josiah. Please call me if they approach you. Please. I have to know you're safe."

“Okay. Don’t worry about it.”

"I'll...try not to.  _ I love you _ ." I say, taking and squeezing his hand.

“Good enough. I love you more.”

"Not true. But I have to go to class. We'll discuss that later." I smile, leaving the car.

…

I can't do this…

The day seems so impossibly long and just leaves me with too much time to think.

Today is the most terrified I have been in such a long time.

Just the idea of knowing it’s going to happen, but not knowing when.

I was so preoccupied, I forgot to give Josiah his lunch.

I head to the cafeteria, lunch in tow, and as soon as I enter, I see a small crowd has formed.

This can't be good.

I hear Ethan, "You didn't think you and your faggot boyfriend could get away with yesterday too? Well, where is he now? You're not so tough on your own."

Shit, shit, shit…!

I'm really terrified…

Am I about to out myself to the whole goddamn school?

Part of me is tempted to just run.

I can't do this.

I stand outside the crowd of people, unable to move.

“Fuck off.” Josiah says.

Ethan does something and Josiah whimpers.

Immediately something inside of me snaps.

I push through the crowd.

"Let him go, Ethan."

I take the situation in. Hunter is standing off to the side and Ethan is in the middle, holding Josiah by his hair.

Josiah's  _ bleeding _ .

I feel my hands begin shaking and I hear Ethan laugh.

"Aww, poor faggot is so scared, he’s shaking!"

"Let him go! I'm serious." I growl, sounding a lot scarier than I feel.

If he hurts him…

"No. You did this, Damien! This is all your fault."

He hits Josiah in the nose and I lose all control.

I run at him and tackle Ethan to the ground.

Josiah falls to the floor beside us.

He'll move.

It’s as if everything is going in slow motion.

I hit him in the face again.

And again. 

Again.

I can't do this.

I need to stop.

_ He's my friend… _

No. He's not. Not anymore.

But it’s as if my brain isn’t in control of my body.

I keep punching until I hear a scream.

It’s Josiah. But it's not a scream of pain.

"DAMIEN, STOP. YOU’RE HURTING HIM."

It's as if whatever possessed me before has left me as quickly as it came, because I stop immediately.

I then look down and I see Ethan.

Oh my God... What have I done?!

He's covered in his own blood.

Hunter pushes me off of him and pulls his up and away.

"Hunter, I…"

"Stay the fuck away from us!" He screams.

I quickly get up and look over at Josiah.

He looks terrified.

And he's terrified...of me.

The people are just taking it all in.

I hear them whispering.

I feel a million eyes...

Judging.

Mocking.

Being afraid.

I put my hands on my head and feel the blood.

I have to get out of here.

I quit breathing.

Oh God.

I can't be here.

**I have to go** .

Everyone is looking at me while I look down at my trembling hands.

I look up at Josiah's terrified face again and I run.

End


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30- 

Josiah's P.O.V.

-Friday, October 15th-

**_What_ ** _ … _ ?

Where’s he going?

I need him.

He needs to keep me safe…

I need…to make sure he is okay. That’s what is important.

I look at Ethan.

_ Damn _ .

I back off a bit. I think I should go find Damien.

“Damien!” I call for him, bolting off in the direction he went. 

I need him. 

I’m not sure where he went…

He wouldn’t leave the building, would he? I hope not. 

Classrooms would be filling up soon, so no one would dare to hide in one of them...

...The bathroom is a safe place.

I open the door to the men’s bathroom that’s nearby and call for him again, “Damien?” 

He’s here, standing by the sink.

He probably has blood on his hands. I imagine he’s trying to wash it off.

“Are you okay? Why did you do that?!” I ask, but he doesn’t answer me.

I walk up to him and desperately take his trembling hand, but he yanks his hand back away from me before I can try to comfort him.

He has been challenged by helping me calm down for so long, I just want to comfort him for once.

“I can’t hurt you.” He tells me in the most soft tone.

“Me? You wouldn’t hurt me…” I remind him.

He seems really uncomfortable and upset.

I’m not good at this sort of stuff.

Something in me wants to go get a teacher, but I know that doing so would only make things worse. I already can’t imagine what Logan might make his father do to Damien.

“Please hold my hand. I-I need you c-close...to me,” I hold out my hand to him, “Please? You’re the only one who makes me feel s-safe.”

“Go away, Josiah!” He snaps, making me wince.

I think he has been pushed beyond the breaking point. 

I feel my heart pound and tears come to my eyes, but I still can’t leave him like this.

If I manage to bother him enough to get him to hit me, or whatever, then so be it. I’ll still only feel safe with him. I’ll still want him.

“I...I’m not going anywhere without you.”

I feel so helpless, I don’t know what to do. 

What could I do to get his attention?

There’s nothing I can do.

I burst into tears. “ _ Damien _ …” I cry, really,  _ really  _ wanting a hug now. 

When I start crying, he seems to get more upset. He doesn’t appear to have any urge to pick himself up to calm me down, and he even seems angry. Knowing him, he is angry at himself, not me. Or, at least, that is what he would tell me.

“I-I want to help, but…but I don’t know what I c-can do.” 

“If I have to tell you again, I swear…”

Maybe he  _ is  _ angry at me? I don’t know anymore…

He doesn’t sound like he is trying to threaten me, though. He just sounds scared. 

“Did I-I make…make you mad?” I ask unsurely.

There’s a beat of silence, before I hear him sigh deeply.

“No… Josiah, you’re the only person who isn’t stressing me out of my fucking mind.” He claims.

**I knew it** . 

No matter what, this is what he will say to me. 

**_Always_ ** . 

“I don’t think that’s true…” 

I don’t  _ think _ , I  **_know_ ** . There’s no way this doesn’t have anything to do with me.

"Josiah, I just...I just need a second. To breathe. Just give me a second." He says.

“But I want to...to help. You always help me when I-I get scared.”

Again, I try to reach out for him, this time with arms wide open. He doesn’t seem interested at all.

_ I’m starting to get angry _ .

It doesn’t make me want to hit anyone, though. I can’t imagine that. I guess people like my father, Logan, and Damien are different…?

...Did I just categorize Damien with my father and Logan?!

I did.

**_Again_ ** .

Damien just almost  _ killed a man _ and I don’t even understand why. 

“Why did y-you...fight Ethan? You s-snapped…  _ Why _ ?” I question.

"I don't know." He mutters.

I link my hands together and stare down at them, trying to hold back from going toward him again. He clearly doesn’t want me to.

“If y-you’re n-not mad, then why-why c-can’t I have a h-hug…?” I feel bad for just asking it. 

"I don’t know what’s going on with me, and I'm afraid I could hurt you."

“You always s-say y-you wouldn’t hurt me, though. Don’t you t-trust yourself?” 

He doesn’t respond. I have no idea if it’s because he doesn’t know or if he just doesn’t want me to know. Maybe a bit of both?

He said he wants me to  _ give him a second _ .

“Should I...leave?” I motion to the door. 

I’m afraid to go out without him, so I silently pray to every god imaginable that he wants me to stay here. 

"Please don't go. I'm  _ scared _ to be alone."

Me, too. I guess we have something in common. But why would  **_he_ ** be  _ scared to be alone _ ? He’s so strong and scary, no one would bother him just because he’s alone, right?

“You w-want me to s-stay here, but leave you alone. Okay. I-I c-can handle that.” I really can’t, but I will tell him that I can.

A few minutes pass, and it feels like hell. I’m still crying, but he seems to start to cool off a bit. Or maybe he ran out of tears. I don’t know.

He finally moves, turning the sink on. He begins to scrub his hands violently.

“You shouldn’t do that. It’ll hurt.”

"It's fine. It feels nice." He says, turning the water off and wringing his wet hands.

There’s no way...but I stay silent about it anyway. I won't fight him on that.

I open my arms again. “Hug now?”

He sighs and starts to walk away. I follow him a bit, hesitantly. 

He grabs his backpack off of the floor, but his hands are shaking so much, he can’t get the zipper open.

He keeps trying, but he just keeps getting more and more frustrated. He grabs it and throws it aggressively against the bathroom wall, as if it is the backpack’s fault that he can’t open it.

I flinch back, my arms that were wide open now coming up a bit, in a defensive position in front of my face. 

Damien doesn't look at me, putting his hands on his head and sitting onto the floor, as if he is unable to stand for any longer.

“Do you need help?” I offer after a minute passes in silence, dropping my hands when my brain finally caught on that nothing was happening.

He nods. "Earbuds." He manages, in a strangled voice.

“You want music?” I go over to him, crouching down by his bag. 

I’m not supposed to go through anyone else’s bags. My aunt reinforced this a million times. But… I think I’ll do it, anyway.

I unzip the backpack after realizing he was nodding furiously. I pull out his earbuds and hold them out.

“Do you… Do you need your phone, too?” I ask. 

I’m surprised he isn’t getting impatient with me. I don’t think I’m really helping...

“Yes. Thank you.” He says.

…Maybe I am helping?

I get his phone out and hand it over with his headphones. He plugs the headphones into the phone as soon as he gets his hands on them.

I hesitantly sit beside him, unsure if he will push me away or not. 

I watch him open up the  _ Spotify  _ app. He plays one of Taylor Swift’s albums, and _ Soon You'll Get Better _ is playing in the headphones.

“C-Can I hear?!” I ask excitedly. 

He hands me one of his earbuds.

I put it in and shift closer to him. He links an arm around me and I cannot possibly express how relieved I felt to finally be touched. I feel so damn lonely and starved of good touch… I need him so, so much. 

I lean against him, laying my head on his shoulder.

_ Thank God _ …

The door opens, but I don’t move, and neither does Damien. 

"Get the fuck out of here." He snaps at whoever came in.

I hear the door shut as quickly as it was opened.

I guess I’m the only person who doesn’t have to be genuinely afraid of Damien. That is both pleasant, and just a little terrifying.

I want to say something about that, but I don’t. I know better than to do that to him right now.

As the song ends, Damien shifts a bit. Without warning, he pulls me to him and hugs me so gently, at least knowing to be careful. 

I hug back, burying my face against his neck.

**_Finally_ ** .

"I'm sorry. For hitting Ethan...and for scaring you. For yelling. I'm so,  **_so_ ** sorry."

“I… I understand apologizing for attacking Ethan, because I told you not to and you shouldn’t have… But if you really insist on apologizing for scaring me every time it happens, we’re going to have a problem,” I chuckle against his skin, pulling away, “Are we still hanging out after school today?” I ask.

"Whatever you want."

“Okay… We’ll figure it out later, then. Are you good to go to class? I have to go now.”

"I'm...going to stay here. You go ahead."

I take his face between my hands. “Will you be okay?” 

"Y-Yes. Go."

“Can we kiss here?” I ask carefully.

I don’t know what’s allowed at school…

"Yeah. It doesn’t matter anymore.  _ Nothing does _ . Everyone knows now."

“Do you not want to…?”

" **I want to** ."

I peck his lips before backing off.

“I’ll see you at the end of school.  _ Okay _ ?”

" **_Okay_ ** ."

I don’t like him being alone.

There’s something  _ scary _ about it…

But I have to go to class. So I’ll just have to worry about it all day.

... _ Okay _ .

...

For the first time, I texted Damien during class. 

**_Barbaric_ ** , I know.

The teacher didn’t say anything, though. I would like to pretend that she didn’t notice, but that’s hardly possible. 

She just doesn’t care.

No one cares about anything at this school…

Anyways, I told Damien that we should get pizza and a movie and do tutoring. Or, if he didn’t want to go home, then we could go out and do things. Because that happens in  _ relationships _ .

People who are  _ dating  _ do those sorts of things…

Whatever he wanted, I said we can do.

Even if he really doesn’t want to do anything with me, that’s okay, too. 

After what happened today, I don’t know how much I really want to be around him…

**_I don’t know_ ** .

I need him, but I haven’t been more afraid of him since we first met. 

Well, afraid of how he hurts people…

I’ve always been pretty convinced that he was going to stop that, but I guess not. I guess that it’s just  _ how he is _ .

I checked to see if he responded to the text after class ended, unwilling to risk being accused of not paying attention.

**_Damien_** : Whatever you want is fine

Okay. I don’t know what I want so just pick something to do.

**_Damien_** : can we just sit on the couch and you lean your head on my shoulder and I just pretend to be watching the movie or whatever and instead I just enjoy being with you?

Sounds good. Do you really not pay attention to the movies?

**_Damien_** : Not once.

Oh okay… Alright then we can do that. See you later 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

_**Damien**_ : 💙💙💙

I think we’ll be okay.  **Maybe** . 

Neither of us are going to change, but…

**_Maybe we’ll be okay_ ** .

…

As planned, he turns on a movie that he apparently has no interest in, and I’m pretty sure it’s a movie made for preteen girls, but I don’t protest. 

I think he assumes the silly kiddie stuff is what I want to watch.

Just because I want things with no violence or sex…

Yeah, maybe he’s right to stick with the  _ baby movies _ .

I cuddle up to him, resting my head on his shoulder. 

I stare at his face for a moment. 

He feels really tense.

I hate not being able to read facial expressions.

“Are you upset?” 

**_Dumb question_ ** . Of course he is.

"Not at you."

“You should be. We both broke the deal we literally made yesterday and confirmed a million times this morning.” I point out.

I didn’t even try to call him, and he didn’t even try to hold back from hurting Ethan.

"I'm not. I'm just tired."

“Being  _ tired  _ doesn’t make people  **_tense_ ** .” I say.

"I'm  _ scared _ ." He admits.

“Of  **_what_ ** ?” I persist.

" **_Myself_ ** . I didn't mean to…hurt him like that."

Oh. He shouldn’t be afraid of that.

It’s his nature. I’ve accepted it, so he should, too.

“He’ll be fine. He can take it.” I shrug.

"No. I...I don't want to hurt people anymore. My mom says that makes me weak. But I can't take it anymore. The guilt is  **killing** me."

“Do you know what  _ feeling guilty _ means? It means **_you’re a good person_ ** . You’re on the right path, if you’re willing to work hard and grow.”

"It was so much easier when I didn't care."

“I know. You’re making me care about things I never worried about before...things I never considered. But it’s good. That’s how we recognize the bad, and you can grow from it.”

**_Maybe_ ** … 

It’s possible.

" _ We _ can grow from this." He says quietly, taking my hand and intertwining our fingers.

I squeeze his hand. “ **_You_ ** can. You’ve already started. And I’m proud of you.”

For working so hard in school, for dropping his toxic friends…

I think I can imagine a positive future for him.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

"You could have done it with anyone like me, though. Any  _ little nerd _ who got beaten up daily could have been the same for you." 

"That's not true. It was always more than  _ tutoring  _ and it always had to be  **_you_ ** ."

"What would be the difference?" 

There's nothing special about me.

"I wouldn't be in love with the other person." 

"You could be. You didn't love me when we started, either." I say.

"You're right. I wasn't. But I was attracted to you. You're one of the only guys I've ever liked."

"You were  _ attracted  _ to me from the moment we met...?"

"Yeah. You really thought I just wanted you to tutor me?"

"I thought you had some sort of elaborate scheme to kill me. For a really long time. I still kinda think that."

"Yeah. That's entirely understandable." 

"I stayed with you because I didn't care what you would do to me. Then I wanted you to protect me. And that's all you were for a little while..." I sigh and lean against him. 

"And now?" 

"Now you're a mixture of those things, but I also love you a lot." 

"I'll settle for that."

"Why would you like me that quickly?" 

I don't understand that. I hardly like anyone at all, much less in that  _ attracted _ sort of way. 

**_Only him_ ** . 

"I don't know. You're cute. And I just did." 

"Thanks. Maybe I didn't like you because I didn't know what you looked like," I claim, shifting to sit upright by him, closely observing his face, "Not that I do now, but...yeah." 

"I look like anyone else. Two eyes. A nose. A mouth. I dunno what you want me to say."

"I look like anyone else, too. But you say I'm  _ cute _ ." 

"Yeah. Your lips are soft and your nose turns up a little bit and your eyes…  _ Oh my God,  _ **_your eyes_ ** ..." He muses, "I could stare at them all day. Too bad they don't work."

I trace a finger along his jawline. "From what I can tell...you have really strong features. Probably helps to make you look  _ tough _ ." 

"Sure. I look  _ scary _ ." 

" **_Horrifying_ ** ." I smile at him. 

I don't care. He's cute. 

"I think you're  _ adorable _ . Like a tiger type of cute, though. Or a bear." I say. 

_ Something big and scary that will eat a person...  _

" _ Rawr _ ." He says.

"...What?" 

" _ Rawr _ . Imma bear." He explains.

" _ Rawr _ ?" I repeat after him. 

The fuck is that supposed to mean...?

"Yes.  **_Rawr_ ** ." 

"Am I supposed to act afraid?" I ask.

"No. I'm a nice bear." 

"Then why are you roaring at me?" 

"I'm saying  _ hello _ .  **_Rawr_ ** ." 

I laugh at him.

He's such a dumb-ass. I don't know where he gets this sort of shit from.

"Okay.  _ Rawr _ ." I respond. 

" **_Rawr-Rawr_ ** ." 

"Do you realize that's weird?" 

"It's better than crying."

"Yeah. But acting like an animal is weird. You're a human.  **_Supposedly_ ** ." 

" _ Suposedly _ . Maybe I'm a bear. You can't see. This whole time, I've been a bear." 

"Bears don't talk." 

"Oh. Well then,  _ rawr _ ." 

"Bears can't say  _ I love you _ ," I poke his cheek, "And they have fur. You are not furry." 

"Give me, like, _ three to five business days _ and I can grow a beard." 

"Please don't. I wouldn't be able to identify your face at all. If you went missing, I wouldn't be able to tell the police what you look like."

"You couldn't tell them what I looked like now."

"I could say; He has dark hair, dark eyes, strong, sharp facial features.  _ He's tall and muscular _ ... And he is definitely wearing all black," I describe, "But they wouldn't know if you covered your face with hair."

"That's... surprisingly reasonable."

"Yeah. Never change anything about how you look. I wouldn't know you anymore." 

"I would still be me."

"You would be...but I can't change the image in my head of what you look like. I just wish I knew for real." I murmur. 

"I wish I could show you somehow. Could you do it like the blind people do on TV?"

"How do they do it?" I ask, interest piqued. 

"They, like, just feel people’s faces. Just don't stab my eyes."

I shift again, directly facing him. 

I take both of my hands and put them on his cheeks. "I've done this before. It doesn't help very much." I chuckle.

He puts his hands on mine, holding them there. "Does that help?" 

I shake my head and pull one hand away from his. 

I grab his nose. "Nope." 

He laughs, "Is  _ that  _ helpful?"

"That depends. It doesn't hurt, does it?" 

"No. You’re not hurting me. It's just weird as hell. And I was just pretending to be a bear for three minutes." 

"Hmmm," I squeeze his nose, " **_Honk_ ** ." 

I let go and take his hands instead, grinning at him.

"...That was the most unhelpful thing I've ever suggested." He laughs. 

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now I know what you really are."

_ "A bear." _

"No.  _ Dumdum the Clown _ . I can't believe you've been hiding your secret circus life from me.  **Asshole** ." 

"What the fuck…?”

"You can't trick me. Your nose  **_honked_ ** .  _ Number one sign of a clown _ ." 

"Aw, shit. I've been caught." 

"That's right. This entire relationship has been based on lies. Are your parents clowns, too? Is this a family business?" 

"No. They’re lion tamers, actually." 

" _ Ohh _ . Makes sense." I nod. 

I sigh, tired of this nonsense. I rest my head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck. 

"Do you feel better now?" I ask softly. 

"A little. Yeah. Thank you." 

I feel like it would be more comfortable to sit up on his lap and just hug him until we fall asleep...but I can't handle that. At least, not yet. 

Something about him actually does give me a glimmer of hope that  _ things will get better. _ That I could be a normal person one day. 

"I'm glad..." I mumble, "You help me a lot. I wish I could help you." 

"You do help me. So much more than you know." He says, leaning over slightly and resting his head on mine. 

"Not without making things worse..." 

I don't know what it is with his parents, but they do not want me to be with him. 

That's what he says. That they would be mad if they knew. 

And I'm just another thing to stress him out. His life is hard enough without me fucking things up. 

"No. Things were bad before you. You make this easier. Don't ever think you don't." 

"I made you get in trouble with your parents. And today with Ethan... You didn't have to do that. It was  _ my fault _ .  **_All of it_ ** ." 

"Don't do this right now. **Please**. It was **_not_** _your fault_. Do you know how much happier I'll be once I can actually be myself?" 

"I don't know... It sounds like you would have been better off with a girl who's like you." 

Things would be easier if this was a circus. 

Once his parents tame the lions, I would pet the lions. Then they would be my friends. And Damien wouldn't be threatening as a clown. At all. He would just be fun. 

"Maybe. But life isn’t easy." 

"No, but there's ways to make it easier." 

"It doesn't matter if you think it's  _ easier _ . I'm with you. And **I love you** . And it's worth it." 

I don't know why I'm trying to convince him to leave me. I don't want him to. 

"What if we quit all of this and join a circus?" I force after realizing that he tensed up again. 

"That doesn't seem like a very valid backup plan." 

"I know. I just don't know what else I could do. That's what people do when they run away. They join circuses." 

"Okay. I guess we can." 

"I think it would be a failed circus. People don't go to circuses anymore. Because of television entertainment, and the awareness of the abuse of circus animals." 

"Yeah. Let's run away and just be happy. How about that?" 

"Alright. I know you said you won't, but what are we supposed to do when we miss home?" I ask. 

"Cry and hug each other, and then make cookies." 

"That...doesn't sound  _ helpful _ , but  **_okay_ ** . Can we do this when you graduate?" 

"I'm leaving when I graduate. Feel free to join me." 

"Please take me with you no matter how much I insist that I don't want to go." 

"I couldn't leave you if I tried."

I try to relax. 

"It'll be considered kidnapping. 'Cause I'm a minor. I don't know if you would need my aunt's permission, or..." 

I think  _ permission  _ defeats the purpose of  _ running away _ ...? 

"Just add it to my list of crimes." 

"Right up there with being _ criminally attractive _ ." 

He laughs. "Oh my God. That's the worst thing you've ever said." 

My heart clenches up worriedly.

"Is it?" 

He's laughing. That's  _ good _ , I think. 

"It's pretty bad." He says.

"I thought it was cute." 

"It was cute, but it was also the most cringey things I’ve ever heard." 

"Oh. Sorry." 

I close my eyes. Maybe we should nap today. 

"I liked it.  _ Ten out of ten _ ." 

"You can't change your mind just because I apologized." 

"Well, I did, so  **_ha_ ** ." 

"But you're just lying. You don't think I'm funny." 

"I’m not lying. You're usually funny. That was just a dumb joke." 

"No, I'm not funny, ever. Avery told me I  _ don't understand the concept of  _ **_memes_ ** . Or  _ sarcasm _ . Or  _ jokes  _ in general..." I sigh, "But it's okay, because you're not funny, either." 

"Excuse you?! I think I'm kinda funny!" 

"You've never said one funny thing." 

" **Bullshit** ."

“I wouldn’t lie to you. I never have. Obviously.”

“Guess I need to work on it, then.”

“You would be funnier if you didn’t take things so seriously.” I claim.

Or is that me? I don’t know.

“ **_What_ ** ? That’s  _ you _ , bud. I’m not nearly as serious as you.”

“Yeah? I thought so. You still really need to loosen up. I guess that says something about how you view me, then.”

“ _ Loosen up _ ? How so?” He pauses for a moment, “The movie’s over…”

“Cool. It wasn’t a very good movie.”

“Yeah. I didn’t watch one minute of it and I was very confused. Not an easy enough plotline. And this is for kids?! Horrible.”

“I know. I think we should rate it _ one star _ online.” I suggest.

“Let’s go give it a 1%.”

“Okay. It was really bad. Didn’t catch my interest at all. It was so uninteresting, I chose to talk to  **_you_ ** the whole time instead.”

“That’s really saying something, because if I’m more interesting than this movie, we have a serious problem.”

“Not really. I find you immensely interesting,” I tell him, “Sometimes.”

“ _ Sometimes _ …?” He repeats, shutting off the TV and leaning his head back.

“ **_Sometimes_ ** , you’re interesting.” I confirm.

**_Sometimes_ ** , he’s  **boring** .

“Fair.” He murmurs, no longer paying attention to me.

“Are we done? Do you want to do anything else?”

“I want to stay right here in this calm moment with you forever.”

“Okay, but if you don’t want to talk, I don’t know what else to do.” 

“Listen to music and chill?” He suggests, “I will totally not fall asleep at all.”

“That’s doing  **_nothing_ ** . I can’t do that. It’s time wasted. We have to at least be doing  **_something_ ** .” 

“ _ Holding hands _ is  _ something _ .”

Right.  _ Something  _ I shouldn’t be doing.

“What if you turn on some music and relax and I’ll just study or do homework…? I don’t think chilling and holding hands is a good idea.” 

I don’t think it would be allowed in a million years.

At the very least, I should be doing something useful. 

“If you want to. But after the past few days, you should chill, too.”

“I do not think it’s physically possible for me to  _ chill _ .”

“Your loss. At least if you’re here, I know you're safe.” He says, letting go of my hand and playing Taylor Swift quietly from his phone.

I get a schoolbook out and lean against him. 

He’ll be asleep within minutes.

He’s weird like that.

I don’t know how he does it. Even when I’m passing out from being so tired, I still can’t properly fall asleep.

“ _ Goodnight _ .” I laugh at him after a minute of silence between us.

“I’m not sleeping!” He protests.

“You will be in about two minutes. When do you want me to yell at you until you wake up?” I ask.

“As soon as I fall asleep.”

“How am I supposed to know when you’re sleeping?”

“When I don't respond.”

“Just keep talking until you fall asleep, and when you quit talking, that’s how I’ll know. Then I’ll shove you onto the floor to wake you up.”

“Right. What do you want to talk about? The weather? It’s getting  _ cold as balls  _ outside, bro. You know, one time, me and Hunter and Ethan…” He stops as soon as he says their names.

“Maybe try talking about something you won’t cut off half way in.”

“Sorry. Um…” He sighs, “Everything I’m thinking of right now will just make me cry, and I can’t do that.”

“Okay. Then how do I know when you are asleep?”

“Dunno. Just poke me every now and again and if I respond, I’m awake.”

I press a finger against his ribs. “Does that hurt?”

He giggles. “No, but it tickles.”

I set the book down onto my lap. “It  **_what_ ** ?”

“ **_Tickles_ ** .”

“ _ This tickles _ ?” I ask, doing it a couple more times.

“Yeah! Stop it!” He laughs, “I’m really ticklish.”

I immediately start tickling his sides. 

“I’m making you laugh.” I smile at him.

“Yeah, but at what cost?!” He curls up, bringing his knees to his chest to try to push my hands away, “I’m  _ dying _ !” He giggles.

I shift a bit when he tries to cover his sides.

“It’s fun. You’re fine.” I insist.

“Nope.  **_Dying_ ** .” He says, scooting away from me.

I follow after him, climbing on him a bit to tickle him.

“You sound very happy.” I correct.

"I'm trying to pout and be sad!" He laughs as I tickle him again. 

"But you're laughing! That means it feels good." 

"Not  _ good _ ! It's  _ tickling _ ! It’s  **_weird_ ** . But  **not** _ good _ . I can't explain it." 

" **_Not good_ ** ?" I repeat, looking down at him, for once, "Are you sure?" 

"I mean, I’m smiling. So that's something. This part is good." 

"Okay, but do you or do you not like it?" 

"Um.  _ Yes  _ and  _ no _ ." 

"That's not an answer! What does tickling feel like?" 

"I can tickle you, if you want." 

I back off instantly, thinking about him putting his hands on me like that.

" **_No_ ** ." 

"Sorry." He says, sitting back up, away from me. 

I stare at him for a moment, making sure he wasn't going to try anything. 

"...Okay.  **_Goodnight_ ** ." I say again.

"I'm awake now. You almost killed me." 

"I didn't. I was making you laugh."

"No. I died."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would be scary." i start to explain myself.

It’s so,  _ so  _ **_scary_ ** ...

"Hey. I was kidding. It was fun. I promise. Nothing  _ scary _ ." 

"It was scary when I thought of you doing it to me..." 

I forget sometimes that people aren't afraid of everything like I am. 

Damn it... 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up." 

"No. That wasn't you. It was me. I'm sorry." 

I started it. As usual.

"Nope.  **_I'm sorry_ ** . No take backs."

I stay silent for a moment, not wanting to start an argument by disagreeing with him, but... 

I pull on my sleeves. "I'm sorry I'm not normal." I sigh.

"I like you as is.  _ No refunds, no exchanges _ ." He yawns.

" _ I'm sorry _ ." I repeat. 

Whether he wants me to be or not. I am. 

I guess he is, too, though... 

" _ Tell me tell me tell me something I don't know. _ .." He sings. 

I stare blankly at him.

I don't... 

**What** ? 

"There's a lot of things you don't know. Where do you want me to start?" I ask him. 

He pauses for a moment. 

" _ How many inches in a mile. What it takes to make you smile _ ... _ bla bla bla bla bla... _ I don't remember the rest. Sorry, Selena."

I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but… It’s pretty annoying.

I sigh and start to ignore him, and he goes quiet after a moment. 

Hopefully, he’s asleep.

He can’t hurt me when he’s asleep.

End


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Damien's P.O.V.

-Saturday, October 17th-

I wake up to a knock on my door.

"Damien. Get up and get showered. You're coming to church with me."

I groan, my head pounding from the events of the weekend.

Thinking about everything Josiah tells me not to and then drinking until I pass out.

"No. Go away." I moan, pulling my blanket over my head.

" _Damien Michael_ , you have a half hour to shower and look presentable. You will not embarrass me today. Get up **_now_ **."

I roll out of bed. "Fine. I'll be ready in a minute."

She does this every time we have a fight. Forces me to go to church with her, as if I'm _acting out because I don't have enough God in my life._

I go into the bathroom and take a quick shower. 

When I'm done, I slip a towel around my waist and wipe the fog off my mirror. I stare at the tattoos she doesnt know I have.

Each one I got with Ethan and Hunter. They got some, too. We all have matching skull tattoos on our arms.

I comb my hair and brush my teeth. Then I take my earrings out.

They don't like piercings or tattoos here. 

One time I went full punk, with a pocket chain and eyeliner just to spite my mom.

One of the church leaders actually tried to cast Satan out of me.

It was both hilarious and terrifying.

I pull on my blue shirt, black tie, and my black jacket. I slip on my pants, then tie my dress shoes on and stare at myself in the mirror.

I have dark circles under my even darker eyes, revealing how fucking tired I am.

 _Whatever_. There's nothing I can do about that anyway. 

I walk out of my room and my mom says, "Don't forget your bible!" 

I groan and go back to my room and grab it out of my closet, where I hide it so I don't feel like God’s judging me. I then run downstairs and text Josiah.

Save me. My moms making me go to church with her.

I get in the car with her and she stays silent, playing hymns in the background as we go.

I don't think she listens to anything else.

_Other than the screams of her victims when a job goes south._

I really wish I could understand her. With dad, his anger always makes sense and everything had a reason.

But with mom... I've never been close with her, but for some reason, she still insists on forcing me to church quite often.

Way more than I would go if I had a choice. 

My phone buzzes and I look down. 

It’s Josiah. 

_**Josiah**_ : Have fun 💛💛💛 Sorry.

I will not. But thanks. 

"Turn your phone off. We're here." My mom says, pulling up to the church.

I always forget how huge it is, and has big stained glass windows about Jesus' death. 

Religion is very morbid. 

Like why the fuck do we go around praising some dude that died? And supposedly came back...? 

I think the twelve disciples were just high as fuck.

I turn my phone off and head inside behind her.

With her light red hair, it’s always easy to spot her.

Random church people tell me _hello_. I nod back, not ready for conversation at 8:30 on a weekend.

I hate this. 

As soon as I enter the doors, I wonder if I'm going to catch on fire.

I do not. Unfortunately.

There's a huge stained glass window behind the pulpit with a depiction of, yet again,

you guessed it, Jesus on the cross with no shirt on. 

Not gonna lie. _He's kinda fit, though._

I shake my head and smile to myself as mom picks a seat toward the front, no doubt so people can see what a good Christian she is.

I wonder how much she actually believes all this. I also wonder if God’s going to burn me for being a criminal and also for being with Josiah... Not that we've fucked.

But, boy, I've imagined it... A lot.

But he isn’t ready yet. He says he might never be.

I don’t believe that. 

My mom elbows me, and I wonder if she heard the gay thoughts somehow.

But then I realize the service started and we have to stand to pray together.

When everyone bows their heads, I glance around at the other people.

How do they all believe this anyway?

How come it feels like I'm going to catch on fire, and has felt like that since I got here?

I take my jacket off but I don't roll up my sleeves. Like I said. My mom doesn't know about my tattoos. 

This would be one hell of a place for her to find out. 

_Ha_. It's kinda funny to imagine. Her face would get so red. But I hate getting yelled at, so maybe not.

After all of the music shit, the old man takes the pulpit. 

"Today, brethren, we're going to discuss how downhill the world has gone and how now, of all times, it’s most important to hold fast in the faith. With all of the _agendas_ going around anymore, it's hard to do anything without it being slapped in your face…”

_Oh boy._

Now I know why mom brought me to this sermon. She always drags me to the anti-gay ones, but it never pertained to me until now.

"Turn in your bibles to Leviticus 20:13." 

I grab my bible and instead of turning there, I grab a pen and doodle on the bulletin the greeter gave me as I came in. 

My mom elbows me to pay attention as the preacher mumbles on, "Today, we will be discussing the _gay agenda_...” and I tune him out. 

And think about **_my_ ** _gay agenda_ instead...

How soft he must be... 

How amazing it would be to take his clothes off...and... 

God. I need to chill. This would be a very unfortunate time to get a boner.

I focus back on the old man. 

Nothing will turn me off like an asshole white bigot/homophobe. I mean, I was homophobic, like...a month ago.

But...people change. 

He has us all recite the verse with him. I start, but once I realize what it’s about, I quickly stop, feeling like God’s going to zap me right here and now.

At least I would be dead. 

... 

As soon as I get out, I text Josiah again. 

is there any way i can come see you Today? I just got yelled at for an hour and a half for being gay or whatever.

He texts back quickly. 

**Josiah** : Maybe for a couple hours, yeah…..

good. I miss you. When can i come get you?

**Josiah** : it doesn't matter. No one's home right now and I'm not doing anything

can i come get you and we go get lunch?

**Josiah** : Sounds great. 😘

I spam him with heart emojis and as we leave the parking lot, my mom asks, "Who are you texting?" 

"Why does it matter?" I snap back, already wishing she wouldn't have tried to talk to me.

"Because I care about you?" She says, trying to keep her calm. She has as much of a temper as I do. If not more.

"Bullshit." I mutter, slipping my phone in my pocket. 

"What did you say?!" She asks aggressively. 

I...asked for this. 

I don’t answer her, and she yells at me the whole way home. I just stare out the window and try not to yell back. 

The quieter I am, the sooner she'll shut the fuck up. 

As soon as she parks, I get out of the car and rush upstairs, not even bothering to change. 

I just grab my keys and get in my car, leaving her behind me. 

As soon as I get to Josiah’s house, instead of texting him to tell him I’m here, I go to the door and knock. He said no one was home. 

The door unlocks and he peeks out the door, as if he can see anything. 

"It’s just me." I smile.

"Hi. I thought it might have been a robber." He says. 

"Why would a robber knock?" I ask him. 

I lean against the door frame and look him over. He's in a dark red sweater that looks really good on him... I don't know why I ever expect something that isn't a sweater... 

"To trick me into thinking that they're not a robber. Of course." 

"Right.... That's definitely what I would do if I was robbing you." 

He pushes his glasses up onto his nose, and I want to kiss him. I don't. But I really want to.

"It would be smart. So I guess _you_ wouldn't do it." 

" _Hilarious_. Are you ready to go?" 

"Nope.”

"Why not?" 

"I lost a shoe." 

I look down at his feet. He only has one worn yellow Converse on. His other foot is bare. 

"Do you want help?" I ask. I'm kind of curious to see the inside of the house. 

"Yes, please. It's hidden somewhere. Avery keeps hiding my stuff." 

He lets me inside and I take it all in. It’s very small and very crowded and I immediately feel claustrophobic. It's messy but not in like a _hoarders_ type of way. Just...in a _there’s not enough room for the amount of people who stay here_ sort of way.

"Good luck. I looked everywhere." 

I glance around the room and see it immediately, sticking out from under the couch. 

" _Bro_." I say and grab it and hand it to him. 

"That's new. Usually she puts stuff in the kitchen...?" He stares at the shoe. 

"Why would she hide your stuff?" 

"So I can't find anything. Duh." 

"That’s mean. I don’t know. I never had cousins or anything like that,” I say, "Now that you have your shoe, can we get out of here?" 

"Okay." He says, slipping the shoe on while standing, "Let's go. Where are we going?" 

"I'm hungry. So food. Maybe… Chinese takeout? I think you would like chicken lo mein." 

"Oh. That's risky." 

"Yes. But I don't want baby food." 

"Fair enough. If it doesn't taste good, I won't eat it." 

"Also fair." I lead him outside. 

He shivers. It’s starting to get cold. 

"Do you want my jacket?" I ask him. 

I’m pretty warm anyway, and I can't imagine how cute he would be in it.

"You need your jacket." 

"No, I’m hot. Dress clothes are annoying as hell. I should have changed." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Of course." I say, slipping off my suit jacket and handing it out to him. He slips it on. "You look...dapper." 

It’s so big on him, I can’t help but smile. 

"That's nice. You, too." 

"You can’t see me." I say, opening his car door for him. He stops and looks at me. 

"You're a dapper blur."

"Thank you. Get in, I want noodles."

“Alright.” He gets into the car. 

I shut the door behind him and get in the driver’s side.

I call and order the food. That way it’s ready to go when we get there.

“Do we want to take the food back to my house?”

“Sure, if you want to.”

_I mean, it was kind of a dumb question, where else would we go?_

“Okay. What did you do this weekend? Anything fun?”

“Nope. You? What do you do at church?”

“Get lectured for an hour about how bad gay people are. My mom only makes me go to those ones.”

“Why? What’s so _bad_ ? And if your mom cares about church so much, why don’t you guys go to **_all_ ** of them?”

“Well,” I start, “The church mom goes to is against gay people and like the whole _LGBTQ+_ communuity because there are like two verses in a really old book that say _not to be gay._ And my mom goes to every service, but my dad isn’t religious, so he doesn’t make me go. When I was little, I went all the time with her. But now that I’m older, she doesnt make me go to any of them but the anti-gay ones.”

I’ve thrown enough fits for her to finally give up most Sundays and just settle for having to go and feel like absolute shit every month or so.

“People shouldn’t listen to really old books. There’s too many cultural differences to try to act like they reflect today’s life. And your mom is weird.”

“I know. But it’s still scary as hell.”

“What is?”

“ **_Hell_ **.”

“Makes sense. _Hell_ is like... _burning for eternity_ , right? That’s what people believe is somehow possible?”

“Yeah. _Dying for eternity. Lying and_ **_gnashing of teeth_ ** _…. All of your darkest fears playing over and over again…forever_.” I shudder. “Doesn’t sound fun.”

“Doesn’t sound like _dying for eternity_ . Sounds like **_life_ ** replaying forever.” 

“That’s…really fucked up.”

“I’m trying to better understand what you’re talking about. Hell is like, ran by Satan and stuff? Satan is the _god_ of Hell…?”

I ignore his dark comment and try my best to explain. “Basically, yeah. Satan was once an angel, _Lucifer_ , and he fell from heaven when he wanted to become God. So God cast him out. And there was like a whole buncha angels that went with Satan and God made Hell for them to be banished too. But Satan still is on earth, tempting people to be **gay** …and other things they say are _sins_.”

“Sounds like God is really mean. And Satan is the one who says we can be together. **Interesting**.”

“Wanna start worshiping Satan with me? Besides, I bet he pays the demons well. Maybe we could make a viable income. I wonder how much demons make?”

“ **_Probably nothing_ ** …? I don’t see why they would have a use for currency. So Satan is also being cursed? He’s being punished, too? He isn’t the _god of Hell,_ then.”

"Um...I don't know. I guess. But he wants to be the _God of everything._ And that means taking out God. Which he can't do. The book Revelation is interesting actually. A bit of an acid trip, but interesting. And it's basically a skip forward and it shows you the end of the world and where Satan makes the Anti-Christ and then basically it shows God destroying him and then taking all the believers to a new earth. To start over from this one." I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as I pull into the Chinese place. "But like I said, I don't know how much of any of this. I believe enough to be scared of going to hell."

“That sounds like a movie. An _okay_ movie.” 

I park the car before I respond. “It kinda does sound unreal, doesn’t it?” I look at my phone “We have a few minutes until our order is supposed to be ready.”

“Cool. Yeah, I find it interesting that a few guys wrote a book a long time ago and now everyone just accepts the things in it as facts.”

“Supposedly, the authors were _God inspired_ , but yeah. Like I said, I’m not sure how much I do and don't believe. I try not to think about it or recently it’s been giving me actual panic attacks, so…”

Recently, overnight in general, I've started having panic attacks when my brain decides to think about everything I'm worried about. It starts with shakey hands, then leads into labored breathing, and then I freak the fuck out and can’t focus on anything but _panic…_

“Oh. I’m sorry. I was interested.”

“No. You’re okay. It’s neat to hear your side of things. Kinda gives me a fresh perspective. Because if I tried to talk this over with, say, _my mom_ , then I would just get smacked in the mouth and get the devil prayed out of me.”

The amount of times she’s actually tried to do that is scary.

When I was a kid, it actually made me cry.

Imagine your mom laying you down and holding prayer beads over you and screaming in **tongues**.

I still get nightmares about it sometimes.

“That’s strange. Has she been diagnosed with any personality disorders or disorders involving psychosis?”

“What? No. She’s not **crazy** … I mean...not **that** crazy. She’s had a hard life, and if religion makes her feel better, I don't mind having to go to church or whatever. I wish we didn’t have to sneak around as much, but if that, the yelling, and the constant _degradation_ is the worst of it, I’ll be fine.”

As long as they never find out about us...

“Normal people don’t do that to family, though. It’s not excusable.” 

From what I’ve heard and seen with both his aunt and his dad, I doubt he has much to say.

I take his hand. “You know what I can’t wait for?”

“What?”

“When it’s just you, me, and a cat, and we have a house and we’re our own _family_.”

No one to tell me who I’m supposed to be…

No one to say I’m _weak,_ or _worthless_ , or _not enough_.

 **_Just us_ **.

And a really big cat. Maybe named _Cookie_.

That’s a good name for a cat…

“No.”

I pull my hand away. “What?”

Shit. I went too far…

I shouldn’t have said anything...

It was too much...

“You forgot _dog_ . **_Big dog_ **.”

I smile. “Right, a really big dog. Like a Saint Bernard.”

“Is that a type of _really big dog_?”

I look up a picture on my phone and zoom in on it. I hand it to him and he holds it very close to see it.

“Very huggable.” I say.

“It looks so hard to take care of. I want it.” He smiles.

“They’re soft, I bet. And give you bunches of kisses, and we could take it to the park and play fetch…”

“That sounds amazing. You should promise me that will happen. That way you can’t back out of it without your conscience going nuts.”

“I promise we can get a dog together one day. And a cat, and a house, and a life that we can be _happy_ someday.”

It seems so impossible. It almost feels like I’m lying just saying we can be _happy_ one day…

“Yeah. We can try.”

 _Trying_ is enough.

I look at my phone. “I’m going to run in and get the food. Stay put.”

“Okay. If you’re gone for more than two minutes, I’m calling 911.”

“What if there’s a line?”

“Tell the line it has two minutes.”

“...If there’s a line, I’ll _text_ you. Do not call the police.” I chuckle.

“Alright, I won’t. Just don’t use this as an opportunity to abandon me in some random place. I will find you. And I will want vengeance.”

“Damn, there went my master plan. How did you know? You’re too smart for your own good, **Walker**.”

“Don’t call me that. It’s weird…”

“I like it.”

“Don’t make me start calling you something stupid, too.”

“Like _what_?” I tease.

“ **_Cohen_ **, of course. Dumbest name.” 

“You better not say that, it might be yours one day.” I instantly blush a little. “I mean… It doesn't **have** to be…”

“I don’t think I’ll change my name. Unless you want me to.”

“...I have to get the noodles.” I say, leaving the car.

…

I get back in the car and sit the food on his lap.

Hopefully, he forgot about all of that.

“It smells so good.” I say as I start the car.

“It smells too strong. Hey, do couples ever mix their last names? Like, put them together to make a new one?” He asks.

“What? No. That’s dumb. Some hyphenate thought. Like you would be Josiah… _whatever your middle name_ _is_ , Walker-Cohen.”

“I don’t like that at all. What if we just picked an entirely new last name? And our cat and dog would have this last name, too. Then we would be our own separate family, apart from our parents.”

“I kinda like my last name. But we could be... _Smith_ . _Damien Smith_ . Actually no, I hate that… _Damien… Jones_?”

“You don’t have an ounce of creativity in you, do you?”

“ _Damien Micheal Ice Cream_.”

“ **Fuck yes**.”

“ _Josiah, middle name Ice Cream_.” I start toward home.

“I’m changing my name to that right now. You can’t stop me.”

“Would you keep your middle name, or change it to _middle name_ is the question?”

“Probably change it to _Cookie Dough_.”

I laugh, “Oh my god. Then I have to be _Mr. Damien Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream_.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go now and get our names legally changed. It’s a great idea.”

“It’s a buncha forms and money. Let’s not.”

“Why does it cost money? That’s dumb.”

“Everything costs money. They have to pay people to fill out forms and shit.”

“Not everything costs money. That’s a lie.”

“Most things do. But for real, I’ll probably keep my name.”

“I guess that’s okay. I don’t see why you would want to.”

“I mean, why not? I want to make it **mine**. And to make a happy family with it to prove it can be done.”

“Oh… I guess the cat and dog can be _Cohens_ then. If you’re so passionate about it.”

“The dog can be _Cookie Dough Cohen_.”

“No… The dog is mine. I name him. He’s... _Nugget Cohen_.”

“I like that. **_Nugget_ **. You’re better at naming things than me.”

“I might change my mind about it. This isn’t for a **really** long time…”

“True. Like **forty-five years** at the least.”

That’s how long it’ll take me to get through high school...

“Don’t say that. It destroys the hope and optimism of all of this.”

“Where was I when they were handing out hope and optimism? I’m jealous.”

“You are my _hope and optimism_ , dumb-ass.”

“Oh. That’s really cute. Thank you.”

“You should have known that by now. I would be trapped at home forever if it weren’t for you.”

“To think… This all started **_because tutoring_ **.”

“Bullshit. You said you liked me. You were all like, _since the moment I laid eyes on you, I thought you were cute and I fell in love_.” 

“Fine! Let me reword it! _To think... This all started because Josiah is the cutest person I’ve ever met and since then I’ve always wanted to be with him forever_. Better?”

“No, because now you’re just saying it because I pointed out your mistake.” 

“It’s true, though. I love you. Simple as that.”

“Good. Watch your mouth.” He laughs.

I roll my eyes. “I’m rolling my eyes at you.”

“Why? You’re so petty.”

“I should stop announcing it. It takes the emphasis of the action away.”

“I prefer you announcing it. So I can be at least a little sure that you aren’t just constantly glaring at me like you want to kill me.”

“I doubt I’ve ever looked at you like that.”

“I’m sure you have. But, okay.”

I park the car. “Are you ready for the noodles of a lifetime?”

“I’m ready to try something that might either be good or completely disgusting, yes.”

...Fair enough.

Hopefully it’s not the latter…

If I have to quit eating Chinese food for him, this whole relationship is done.

End


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Sunday, October 17th-

After a pretty good day with Damien, I absolutely didn’t want to go home, of course. But I didn’t really have the choice. 

So…  _ Yeah _ .

The Chinese food was okay. There wasn’t anything particularly special about it, unlike Damien claimed. I figured he would be wrong anyway.

Half the things he likes are disgusting as hell. 

The door opens and I look up at it to check who it is. 

I can’t tell…

“Hey.” I say.

“Don’t talk to us.” Avery immediately snaps.

Okay, good. It’s just them.

“Where were you guys? Is Aunt Dahlia with you?” I go on.

Avery huffs and goes into the kitchen.

Alexa slams the front door shut, making me flinch.

I don’t like that sound…

“Aunt Dahlia is with dad in the hospital. They sent us back here to pack our fucking bags because it’s time to go home.” She complains.

She sounds very bitter and upset. More so than usual.

“Is he dead yet?” 

“No. Not yet. In the next couple days, he will be, though. And mom says we can come home now because she’s going to need help with everything. And she kept going on about how lonely she’s been when she’s the bitch that sent us away.” She comes over and sits on the couch.

I watch her carefully. People being upset never means good things.

“Being an awful person is a necessary trait for a  _ Walker _ , so it makes sense.” I sigh.

“Don’t be disrespectful.” Avery says, starting to make some sort of food.

“I wasn’t.”

“Don’t fight with her, Josiah. I’ve told you a million times that you need to learn to keep your mouth shut, and now is the time to use that skill.” Alexa tells me.

I do not have that skill.

She starts aggressively packing her bag.

“Are you pissed because you’re leaving…?” 

“Yes! As soon as we go home, I’m never going to see you or Aunt Dahlia again. Contrary to popular belief, I fucking care about family. And dad… You have no idea how much I care about him. Don’t be an insensitive ass for once!”

“Don’t talk to me like I haven’t lost most of my family.” I glare at her.

“Who’s fault is that?” She retorts, “Just shut the fuck up. Dammit…” She mutters under her breath.

She’s being weird.

“Don’t you want your mom back? If you care so much about family.” I point out.

“Would you want your dad back?”

“Yes. I do, everyday.” 

She goes silent instantly. 

I don’t know what she expected me to say. I would do anything to just have family who actually talks to me.

That’s why I really don’t want them to leave, either…

“You’ll get your wish here soon.” Avery says, coming over and sitting on the armrest.

“What do you mean…?” I question.

“His brother is dying. They’re going to let him go to the funeral. Duh.” 

I feel like she is certainly either glaring or  _ rolling her eyes _ . It would be nice if everyone announced it like Damien.

I crack a smile. 

It’s really funny when he does that…

Wait.

“What?” I look up at Avery with wide eyes.

**_Useless eyes_ ** . I can’t see her. This is dumb.

_ Useless _ , apparently  _ cute as fuck _ eyes…

“Your dad. He’ll be coming back as soon as ours dies. I would assume he would stay here, since he has a better relationship with Aunt Dahlia than he does with anyone else in this family.” 

Oh.

That’s...good.

“You don’t look excited. I knew you were lying.” Alexa says.

I’m excited. Just also a little terrified of dad learning about Damien…

Or, Damien meeting him. That could go south real quick.

I decide now is probably a good time to stop talking to them. Even if it kind of proves Alexa’s point.

I pull my phone out and go to messages with Damien.

Hey 😚. Are you in bed asleep yet?? 

_**Damien : **_Nope. Why?? Is something wrong?

Alexa and Avery just told me they’re leaving pretty soon...it’s kinda bittersweet.

_**Damien : **_Oh. It's something. That's for sure

This means we can be together at school 💛💙😊

_**Damien : **_Yeah… I guess so

I hope I don’t have to go to their dad’s funeral. Imagine how many people I would piss off there. And if my grandparents were there…..bad news .

_**Damien : **_Just come stay with me. Or I could go with you

Now that’s risky. I don’t think I would be able to stay with you either. If they don’t make me come they’ll probably lock me in at home. 😔

_**Damien : **_I can break you out. I know how to pick locks I will come save you 💙

That’s breaking and entering. Don’t do that...

_**Damien : **_Meh. Worth it 

No. Just promise me now that we can text throughout the whole day whenever it happens . 

_**Damien : **_I can't promise that. I dunno when it is. 

_**Damien : **_Also u don't need me to come get you tonight right?

It’ll probably be Friday or Saturday. 

I’m good tonight. Aunt Dahlia isn’t even coming home. Although Alexa and Avery are pretttyyy pissed.

_**Damien : **_Good I'm drinking. 

_**Damien : **_I might have to do family stuff but I dunno yet

This weekend? Family stuff isn’t on weekends ☹️

_**Damien : **_Not normally but after sneaking out the other day they've been cracking down on it 😭

Wow...bad timing. That’s scary..

_**Damien : **_It's okay. In two weeks we have to go out of town and I'm dreading it.

Okay. I don’t like that 😭 but okay.

_**Damien : **_It's just Puerto Rico.

What?? You’ll be that far away?

_**Damien : **_It's only for a weekend. Three days. And you have Pierres number. 

_**Damien : **_I'll tell him to make sure you're okay every now and again

He isn’t going to hold my hand or give me hugs though 😭😭

_**Damien : **_If i could get out of it i would

I’ll miss you. Wow I’m not looking forward to being alone ….. 🥺

_**Damien : **_I'll miss you too but that's in two weeks. We have plenty of time to cuddle until then💙💛💙💛

Maybe not..

_**Damien : **_Why not

I don’t think I’ll be able to come over as often. And I might not need you to take me to and from school….? I’m not sure 

_**Damien : **_Why? I thought you said it would be better once ur cousins left

School will be better. Idk there might be some other family staying here possibly. For the funeral and stuff.

_**Damien : **_Like other cousins? Ur house is very small for that

No I don’t have any other cousins...that I’m aware of. Just one or two people. Nothing much. I just think they might be willing to take me to and from school 

_**Damien : **_I like taking you to and from school. 

_**Damien : **_Y U h8 me? 😭😭😭

I think they might not like you doing it. What does YUh8 mean??

_**Damien : **_Y U h8 me = Why do you hate me. Nerd😑

Oh that’s dumb. Anyways I think I’ll try to get some sleep soon. I wonder if Alexa and Avery would be willing to stay in the bedroom so I can have the couch tonight…?

Hopefully. 

Goodnight 💛😘. Stop drinking and get some rest

_**Damien : **_No can do. Have a great night ❤

I turn my phone off and put it onto the charger.

“Were you talking to Damien?” Alexa asks.

She can’t control me anymore. She’s leaving.

“Yeah. Because he’s nice.” I say.

“We’ve been over this. If you just want to be in a cycle of only hanging around people who are manipulating and hurting you, then  _ fine _ .” 

“I don’t care. I love him.” 

“You should care. He doesn’t love you.”

“I know. But he makes me feel safe and I need him. I don’t care if he hates me or if he’s going to hurt me.”

“For a smart person, you make really dumb choices.” She sighs.

“ **I love him** .” I repeat. 

“Are you going to leave him if he does something? Come on, Josiah… Don’t be like this.”

“I’ll never leave him. Ever.” 

Damien would have to kill me to get me to leave him.

“You’re being manipulated. You shouldn’t involve yourself with people who don’t love you.”

“I tried that and I’ve spent my whole life alone. I just need someone.”

“So, do you love him, or do you just need someone? No one has ever loved you; You haven’t seen any sort of love. You don’t know what  _ love  _ is.” She argues.

That is all true. I hate that.

“I think I love him…”

“Which means nothing because you do not know what you’re talking about. We’re going to bed. Sleep on the couch if you want, but I’m still taking the blanket.” She gets up, grabbing my baby blue blanket and stealing it.

Avery isn’t even in here. I guess she already went to bed.

As soon as I hear the bedroom door shut, I get up and sit on the couch. 

Finally. Curling up in the corner isn’t nice at all. It’s just cold and hard over there.

This couch  _ is…okay _ .

I’ve been sleeping here for more than ten years…

But, after all this time with me thinking that the couch is the most luxury possible place I could sleep…

It’s different since I’ve slept at Damien’s house.

Laying in that bed was so, so nice…

But being in his arms is what really gave me a taste of a good life.

Feeling so safe and comfortable, and hearing him talk to me about anything and everything, and being touched in a way that is good and doesn’t hurt…

Damn.

I miss him.

I...can’t breathe.

Fuck.

I just…

Every bit of  _ hope and optimism  _ he provides me with is false.

I shouldn’t feel safe with him. He isn’t going to protect me and it’s only a matter of time before he hurts me.

And if he really is a good, safe person…

I don’t deserve him.

I don’t deserve hugs. I should be hit and yelled at, and…

**_No_ ** .

All I need to do is call or text him right now and I’ll be able to breathe. He’ll fix me.

I shouldn’t be allowed to breathe.

I clench my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms.

My dad is going to come back.

He’ll punish me.

He’ll stop everything from being complicated by taking away all of my choices…

I won’t even have the option to talk to Damien. 

I might never talk to him again…

No more tutoring. No more  _ watching _ movies. No more hugs.

We’ll never move in together. We’ll never have a cat or dog, or any kids. 

We’ll never get married.

I’ll never learn to love being intimate. 

I’ll never understand love, or be loved.

I’ll be...exactly what I deserve to be. What I was meant to be.

Alone, unloved, scared, hurt…

Everything I’m not when I’m with Damien.

...I shouldn’t think this way.

I just need to contact him. So he can stop this panicking.

I drag myself off of the couch, my whole body trembling violently. 

I retrieve my phone and end up laying down on the floor.

I blink away tears and rub my eyes.

It’s been forty minutes since I last texted him…

It’s 11:30.

Maybe he’s awake…?

I manage to text him. No harm in trying…

icant brewthe

_ Typos _ ...

Those are the worst.

_**Damien :**_ just relax everything will be okay. No matter what it is you're worried about.

do you lovee me?

Dumb question. I know what he’s going to say. 

im serious..alexa toldnme you dont 

_**Damien : **_Of course i love you 

_**Damien : **_Alexa doesnt know shit.

are you sure

_**Damien : **_Ive never been more sure of anything in my life

ok..and we can livetogeether soon rihgt??

_**Damien : **_someday. after i graduate

alright are u 100% sure? 

we’ll be ok???

_**Damien : **_we will be okay

_ Okay… _

**_Everything is going to be okay_ ** . 

Eventually.

I don’t know when. Hopefully soon…

After…

After he graduates. 

As soon as we’re out of all of this and away from family, we’ll be okay.

I’m not reassured and I don’t feel better, but whatever. I’ll realize it later when I’m not freaking 

out. 

im sorry for bothering u im going to sleep now. night

_**Damien : ** _ youre not bothering me ill be up all night anyway. try to get some sleep. i love you

I love you more

I quickly shut off my phone, and it buzzes a second later. I’m sure of what he said.

I manage a slight smile just thinking about it.

Everything will be okay.

As long as I stay with him and trust him, I’ll be good.

End


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Monday, October 18th-

I wake up with Josiah sleeping soundly in my arms. We must have fallen asleep while we were... _studying_. 

God, I could get used to this. I think I already have.

I lay there for a moment and just enjoy him being here with me.

My phone rings and I slip off the couch beside him, being careful not to wake him up, and quietly answer my phone across the room.

"Hello?" I answer softly.

"Do you have friends over?" My mom asks quickly.

"Yeah, you could say that." I say, looking at his sleeping figure all alone, and I want to pull him back into my arms.

It seems so relaxing compared to the past hell of a month...or two...

"Well, they need to leave. Business emergency is headed home."

I panic. I have a sleeping boy in my room. I’m fucked.

"When will you be here?" I ask, trying to calm my voice.

"Five minutes, max."

Shit, **shit** , **_shit_ **!

"Okay they'll be gone..."

I hang up and shake him awake.

"We need to go. Now."

He wakes up in a groggy panic.

"What?! W-Why?" 

He rubs his eyes and puts his glasses on when I hand them to him, as I quickly toss some boots and my jacket on.

"Get your shoes on. My parents will be here in a few minutes."

He freaks out and gets up so quickly that he almost falls over.

He throws his shoes on, and we run down to the motorcycle.

He pulls his helmet on and we quickly drive out of there. Josiah is still half asleep, but in a panicked state of disarray.

We get him to his house, but when I park, he just stays sitting and hugging my back.

"Are you okay? Sorry for such the abrupt wakeup call. My parents are on their way home... _Stock market_ emergency."

He just nods and rubs his eyes. "Yeah. I understand."

I help him off of the motorcycle.

"Sorry that we couldn't hang out today. But I’ll text you as soon as I can.”

He nods, rubbing his eyes under his big glasses, the left side of his hair sticking up. He looks so precious, I want to just scoop him up and take him back to my house.

I never want to leave...

I climb back on my motorcycle.

"I'm really sorry, for what it's worth." I smile at him.

"You better get home now."

I nod. "I need to know if you can get in first."

I didn't get to feed him or anything like I normally do before he goes home.

"Here." I say, giving him a ten out of my wallet. "Go get McDonald’s, or something… It’s better than nothing." 

I don’t like the idea of him wandering around the city alone, but I don’t like him eating nothing all day even more.

He’ll be okay. I worry too much.

He just stares at the ten dollars I'm holding out to him.

"Take it, or I won’t leave."

He takes it and waves goodbye. I watch him go inside and as soon as the door shuts behind him, I speed home as quickly as I can. As soon as I pull into the driveway, I see my parents’ car coming down the street.

I pull into the garage and I quickly run upstairs.

Whenever they have their meetings, they always want me in my room and out of the way.

I close my bedroom door behind me then I peek out of my bedroom window. I see them entering the front entrance with a few men in suits. I can't recognize anyone from here.

I decide to hop in the shower because I’m trapped up here all day anyway. But before I can move away from the window, there's a knock on the door.

I open the door to see my mother, holding dress pants and a button up shirt and tie. She's dressed up in a blue cocktail dress that contrasts nicely with her red hair.

"Put this on and clean yourself up quickly. Your father and I decided you're finally ready to start joining in on meetings.”

Shit. 

This is what I get for leaving the other day.

"Be down in ten." 

I sit my phone on my bed. I don't want it going off during the meeting.

I nod and she leaves. I quickly pull the red button down shirt on and slip into the pants.

I’m so fucking nervous. Who knows what this meeting is about?

The fact that they want me to start attending meetings…scares me.

That’s a lot more serious than everything else we’ve done.

I quickly brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair before looking for my dress shoes. They're nowhere to be found, so I quickly pull my black converses on.

Whatever. It's better than nothing.

I tighten my tie and walk downstairs to the meeting.

To my surprise, more people have shown up since I saw my parents walking in. It's a weird mix of people who are dressed up like me and my parents, and people who look like common street thugs. My dad sits at the head of the table, as if he's some fucking king, my mother at his right side. 

Jesus Christ, they’re so fucking theatrical. 

I see they've made Pierre into a bartender for the night, and I grab myself a drink before approaching the _king and queen._

For fuck’s sake...

I take a drink. I see my dad left me an empty seat beside him. 

"Damien, nice of you to join us."

I sit down and he smiles.

"All of these people work for you?"

He nods. "I figured I would start you off easy with a business meeting. Nothing too...violent. Your mother wanted you to come on a job with her first thing but I decided we didn't want to scare you off," He laughs, putting a hand on my shoulder, “Get you ready for Puerto Rico.”

I smile back, pretending it’s not a fucking Monday afternoon and people are dressed up like it’s some coctail party and drinking drinks like it’s 9:00 p.m.

My dad calls the meeting to order, and the seats at the table quickly get taken.

To be honest, it’s really fucking boring. It's all numbers talk and jobs that need pulled and supplies that need to go out. One guy even has fucking handouts. It is the most boring side of crime I have ever seen in my life. Not enough guns and shit.

I'm kind of glad, to be honest. 

After the meeting, my dad forces me to meet people, and by _meet people_ , I think he has me meet literally everyone. And each time, he jokes that I’m the _heir to the throne_ or that I’m _in training._

That scares me. 

I had a **plan**.

As soon as I graduate this summer, I was going to leave and not contact them again until I knew they were not going to ask me to stay. I've been saving back money. I've been withdrawing from their accounts ever since I was twelve and I snuck downstairs during a much _different_ ... **_scarier_ ** meeting. 

...

By the time all of dad’s business associates leave the house, I check my watch. It's 7:00 p.m. now....

Jesus Christ.

As soon as my parents dismiss me for the evening, making sure to tell me how good of a job I did, I go upstairs to my room and I lay on my bed, exhausted. I would rather die than go back to school tomorrow.

I roll onto my stomach and check my phone.

 _Thirty seven missed messages and twelve missed calls from Josiah_.

I sit upright.

I start reading through some of the texts quickly.

_**Josiah**_ : I know you just left but I need you

_**Josiah**_ : something happened

_**Josiah**_ : please comeback

_**Josiah**_ : damien ineed you now

_**Josiah**_ : its really seroous please,,please help

_**Josiah**_ : are you okay? youre not responding..

_**Josiah**_ : olease message me as soon asyou cab

I try to call him back but his phone goes straight to voicemail. It must be dead.

I stand up and pace, having a mild freak out. 

I need to go to him now. It's better than not at all.

I slip my phone in my pocket and just slip my leather jacket on over my dress clothes, before running out the door. I pull my sunglasses out of my pocket before I start up my bike and I speed the entire way to Josiah's house, going 85 the whole time.

I pull into his driveway and try calling him again but it went straight to voicemail just like last time.

I quickly run up to the door, putting my sunglasses in my pocket. I knock loudly and quickly.

If his aunt is home, she's going to be pissed.

I keep knocking until she opens the door, a look of fury on her face.

"Who the hell are you? Stop banging on my door!"

"Is Josiah here?!"

"You’re that **_friend_ ** of his, aren’t you? The _good-for-nothing bitch_ isn’t here right now."

"Do you have any idea where he went?" 

"Fuck, no. Go away." She slams the door in my face.

What an asshole.

I begin to get really worried. I remember the other day when he was talking about how I would be better off without him and my heart drops into my stomach…

He wouldn't…

Would he?

I freak out and get on my bike again.

I'm going to search this whole fucking city if I have to.

I start by driving down his road.

Then the next one.

And the next.

How the FUCK am I supposed to search the entire fucking city?!

I pull over in a vacant parking lot and try desperately to call him again, leaning against the abandoned brick building, feeling like I'm having a panic attack. I can hardly breathe or think straight.

It goes to voicemail again, and I drop down into a crouched position, my breathing getting heavy.

 _Oh my God._ I can't do this without him.

What if he's dead? I punch the wall behind me and it clears my head a little.

So I punch it again.

And again.

And again...

Until my knuckles are dripping blood and my brain has quieted down enough for me to think.

 **_Don't panic_ ** _. You can’t help if you’re panicking._

I stand up and pace. It helps me think.

I think back fervently to our last conversation. He seemed okay. He seemed tired, but perfectly fine.

What the hell happened? The last thing I know, I was giving him a ten to…

Oh my God.

I hop on my bike and speed to the McDonald's only a few blocks away from his house.

I park and literally run into the store, out of breath from my panic attack only moments ago.

My eyes glance quickly across the room until I see a familiar figure in a booth all the way in the corner by a window.

I run over and people stare at me, but for once, I don’t care.

"Josiah?" I let out a panicked, strangled cry.

He looks up toward me, and I pull him out of the booth and into the biggest hug.

"Oh my God, when you left all the messages and didn't respond, I…" I feel tears form in my eyes, "I thought I lost you." I say, hugging him even tighter.

He doesn't hug me back.

I let him go and ask him softly, with a hand on his arm, "What is it?"

He just shakes his head _no_ , and I see tears fall down his face.

"How long have you been here?"

He doesn't answer. But I see a completely untouched melted mcflurry sitting on the table where he was.

"Let’s go back to my house, huh?"

He doesn't respond at all, so I take his hand and start to walk him outside.

When we get out there, a cold breeze sends shivers through me.

I look back and see he's only in jeans and my shirt from earlier.

I take my jacket off and slip it onto him.

He doesn't act like I've done anything at all, standing completely still.

I just zip it onto him then take his hand again. Not caring if someone sees us.

I'm just so glad he's not dead.

Well, not _physically_ dead. The _no speaking_ is freaking me out. A LOT.

But he's here. So that's something.

I get on the motorcycle and say, "C'mon."

He sits down behind me and I tell him to hold on. He does, linking his arms around me, and I quickly drive him home.

...

I park my motorcycle in the garage, and, _what a surprise_ , my parents are gone again. I take his hand and bring him back up to my bedroom.

He looks so...blank.

I sit him down on the couch and unzip my jacket off of him, tossing onto the bed.

I then sit beside him and ask softly, "Do you want some water, or a Pop-Tart? We should still have some cookies? Or…?"

He acts as if he didn't even hear me.

I sigh and say, "Take your time."

He begins shivering, so I wrap a blanket around his shoulders. I'm afraid to touch him.

I leave him on the couch, knowing he will open up when he can, and I try my best not to openly freak the fuck out in the meantime.

I need to relax. I can’t help him and be losing my mind, too.

I grab my guitar.

I sit down on the bed and focus on practicing some soft melodies I’ve been teaching myself by ear, most of them slow bittersweet Taylor Swift songs.

I stay silent, knowing there's nothing I can do, and I just try my best to relax.

 _Relax_.

 **_Breathe_ **.

I strum the strings lightly.

Focusing on the fact that Josiah isn't dead. 

Finally, after what seems like hours, Josiah finally cracks.

"My father is at my house.”

I sit my guitar aside and go sit beside him on the couch.

"I thought he was in jail. How the fuck is he home again?"

He says, “Doesn’t matter.” 

"Can I hug you?"

He hesitates, but nods, and I hug him against me tightly as soon as he does.

"I don't know what I can do." I pull away enough to see him. He's not even crying, or anything.

I would rather him cry than this. I’ve seen him cry before. I haven’t seen him like _this_ before. 

This scares me so much more.

"Tell me what I can do to help."

" **_Nothing_ **. There is n-nothing we can do. I-I just want you with me..." He tells me.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't with you earlier. I shouldn’t have left my phone… I'm so, so sorry."

He doesn’t give any sort of response.

I just hold him to me in silence until I ask him, "Have you eaten anything today?"

He shakes his head.

"I'm going to go get you some food, okay?" 

I get up and he grabs my hand quickly.

"P-Please don't go." His voice cracks.

"Do you want to go with me?"

He nods and I pull him up. He keeps the grey throw blanket over his shoulders as he follows behind me like a lost puppy.

I keep a hold of his hand, terrified my parents could come home and see us at any moment.

We go into the kitchen, and Pierre is there, washing up leftover cups from the meeting.

He turns and smiles at us and I smile back.

He sees our intertwined hands and I panic. But I can’t let go of Josiah.

Pierre just smiles and says, "I know nothing."

I give him a smile of relief as he asks, "What can I get for you guys?"

I shake my head. "I can get it. You have plenty to do, I’m sure."

He laughs, "Trust me. I could use a break from all of these dishes."

My parents normally hire extra help on meeting days, but when one is as impromptu as this one, they can’t do anything, and it leaves poor Pierre with a lot of work.

He looks over at Josiah and smiles kindly.

"You don’t look very well. Why don’t I make you some soup? And I know you’re the reason we now keep Pop-Tarts in stock. I'll make you a strawberry Pop-Tart for dessert, how about that?"

Josiah nods and steps behind me slightly, as if he's done talking to people for today.

I make polite small talk as Pierre heats him up some sort of chicken broth soup and a Pop-Tart.

I fill him up a glass of water and hand it to him.

He sips it slowly.

When the food is done, he puts it on a tray and hands it to me.

I have to let go to Josiah's hand.

He panics and grabs the back of my shirt in his tiny fist, holding on to me tightly.

"Thank you so much." 

Pierre smiles at us and says, "I hope you feel better." to Josiah, who manages a weak smile at him before we head upstairs.

Josiah is clutching his water tight in one hand and is holding onto the back of my dress shirt with the other. I lead him upstairs and we sit on my loveseat. I keep the tray on my lap so that he doesn't drop anything, and I hand him the soup first.

He scowls, "I want the Pop-Tart."

"If you eat half of your soup first, then you can have the Pop-Tart." I know it’s been at least since yesterday since he has eaten… I mean, same here, but… I can wait. 

He whines, but finishes most of his soup before he gives me back the bowl.

I then hand him the Pop-Tart, and he eats that, too.

Good. I was getting worried.

Once he's done, I hand him his water and set the tray down onto the floor, out of the way. I'll get it later.

Josiah drinks some water then puts it onto the table, beside my couch.

I lean back and put my arm around his shoulder.

He looks a bit surprised, but he curls up beside me, pulling his feet up and nuzzling into my arm and chest. I just hold him close, and very quickly, he's asleep against me. I make sure his blanket is covering him up. 

Once I'm satisfied, I lean my head over and rest it on his.

I fall asleep as soon as I shut my eyes.

...

I wake to a piercing scream.

My eyes snap open and I look over at Josiah, who's curled into a ball, his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth and sobbing.

I look around, and once I know there's not a real threat, I panic. A robber, I could deal with. But when it's stuff like this… I’m not nearly as useful. 

Unsure if I should touch him, or if it will throw him even farther into panic, I hold a hand out, ready to put it on his back. I stop myself and sit it on my lap. 

It’s like there's an invisible wall between us again and I have to figure out how to make it to the other side.

" _Hey_ ," I say in the most soothing voice I can muster. I glance at the clock on my wall. It’s 4:45.

He continues to rock back and forth and sob.

Oh my God, I am so not equipped for this!

"What's wrong?"

 **_Stupid_ **. Obviously, it's his dad. I'm a dumb-ass.

"How can I help you? What's going on?" I ask, trying to keep the panic from my voice.

"...I c-can’t g-get away from him. H-He’s here...” He seems to have had a bad dream.

"He's not here. He's far away from here right now. It’s only us; **_You and me_ **. He can't hurt you. I won't let him."

"You can’t stop him.” He states.

"I won't let him hurt you.” I repeat, the anger seeping through my voice.

"What could you do?!” He questions me. 

His tearful eyes open. He looks toward me, eyes wide and unfocused.

"I…" I stop. "I don't know. I’ll figure it out. It doesn't matter, because I’m going to help you. I will. I promise."

"Damien, I-I want to go h-home, and I can’t even g-go home, bec...cause it has never been s-safe there. There’s n-nothing you can do to fix that.”

"Can't I be your home?" I ask softly, "I mean, I know you can't stay here permanently...b-but I'm here. Permanently. I love you." I say again, for the second time.

"I love you, too.”

"Can I touch you?"

I see him nod, and I pull him to me, holding him as close as humanly possible.

I still can't shake how terrified I was last night.

"How can I help?" I ask again, quietly, just in case he has managed to fall asleep somehow, “I don't know what to do to help."

"I don’t think you can…” He mumbles, burying his face against my chest. 

"I'm so, so sorry." I say resting my head on the top of his. All I can do is hold onto him and not let go. That's it. And hopefully that's enough.

“Thank you.” His fingers clutch on to my collar, holding so tight. 

"What was your dream about? If you don't want to say, you don't have to..."

He pulls on me a bit, as if I could get any closer. “My dad was here, at your house. And you were there, but you didn’t do anything and he kept throwing me and squeezing my neck.” 

I feel one of his hands let go. I look down at him and watch him wrap his own fingers around his throat.

“Hey, _hey…_ It’s okay. It didn’t really happen. He isn’t here.” I promise, gently taking his hand away from his throat.

“He could...c-could be here, though. Eventually. If h-he knows I’m here, then...then he might try to come and get me! H-He c-could get in here...” He panics endlessly.

"We have security guards. And we have security cameras and systems. It’s harder to get in here than Fort Knox without a key. And I wouldn't just _do_ **_nothing_ **."

“What if someone left the garage open?” 

“No one left the garage open.” I promise.

He rubs his face against my chest, taking in a shuddering breath.

“You don’t know that.” 

"I can go check. I don't mind. It will only take a second." 

“You can’t leave me.”

“Do you want me to check, or not?”

“P-Please check… Let me come with you.”

"Okay.” I say, getting up and flipping the light on. I’m still in my dress shirt that's long since been untucked and my dress pants.

I was too exhausted to change. I opened my closet and grab the baseball bat I keep hidden. 

I hold the bat in my right ha, I keep the other hand in Josiah’s, who hides behind me the entire time.

We walk down the stairs, using my phone flashlight to hopefully not trip and die.

We go out to the garage and nothing is there, and the doors are all closed and locked. He then proceeds to make me walk the entire house with him in tow.

It's risky, because my parents could be getting up to leave anytime now, but I know Josiah won't calm down if we don't do this.

By the time we make it back upstairs, it’s past five.

He sits back down on the couch and I grab us each a blanket.

"Are you satisfied we're alone?” I sit down and curl up in my blanket.

“I-I guess so… You’re sure no one c-can get in?” 

"Positive." I say, yawning. I'm so tired.

He snuggles up to me again and I wrap my arms around him.

I pull his glasses off his face and put them on the coffee table.

I turn to face him again and the light from the moon from the window lights up his face enough that I catch sight of the scar on his head.

I gently run my finger over it and he closes his eyes.

"I know you said your dad did that…but what did he do? Again, if you don't feel comfortable ..."

He opens his eyes again and looks as if he's in another place.

"All the s-scars come from sharp objects that he got h-his hands on. If he had access t-to something that c-could be used to hurt someone, he would do it to m-me. I-I don’t remember specifics, but...I remember that it h-hurt.” 

"I'm sorry.” I manage for the millionth time.

“You apologize t-too much, especially for things that you c-can’t control.”

" **_Sorry_ ** ." I say jokingly, and he _almost_ smiles.

"What do you remember about him?" I say, curious to keep him talking if he's willing to.

“Besides the s-scary things that are j-just a blur of pain… I remember that he had a...a scrapbook that was m-made by my m-mom about our family. He always s-sat me down and made me look through it, and he would tell me about her… I liked that. I only got that s-side of h-him when I was being really, really g-good.” He describes.

"You know that him hurting you had nothing to do with you being _good_ or _bad_. No matter how horrible a kid is, you can't justify throwing shit at them." I explain.

"Your parents aren’t the s-same. That’s why you think that. They d-don’t punish… My dad does. S-So, it’s all about whether I-I’m good or not.”

I haven't told him yet about them wanting me to continue the _business_ or how disgustingly prejudiced they are against anyone or anything that's different than them. But they’re not anywhere near _that_ bad. But if he thinks they don't punish, then he is **very** wrong.

"Well, it shouldn't be." I say simply. 

All of that is for another day...

“It always h-has been. If I-I did s-something wrong, then he would h-hit me. Even when I d-didn’t know what I did, it s-still taught me to be c-careful to not break the rules.”

"That's why you are how you are." I say matter of factly. "You know I would never hurt you, right?"

“I think...that if I do anything wrong, you have the right to hurt me for it. But I... I don't want you to. So **please** don’t…”

I hug him tighter, my fingers playing in his soft hair. "I won't. Not now, not ever."

“Thank you…” He sighs, “I like it when you play with my hair.”

I smile and hold him closer. I silently vow that no matter what, I'm never letting him go.

End


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34--

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Tuesday, October 19th-

I don’t remember hardly anything from yesterday.

Just being stunned in fear…

And Damien helping. Like always.

We both wake up when the alarm on his phone goes off for school. I hope I get used to that. It kind of freaks me out everytime.

I don’t even want to go to school. I don’t want to go anywhere. 

“Damien…” I mumble as he pulls away from me.

“ _ Let’s call in dead _ .” He mutters.

I sit upright, watching him stand. 

“We should run away now. Why are we waiting for you to graduate?”

“Because I said so. I don’t want to drop out of school. We’ve worked so hard.”

“I don’t want to go anymore. I’m scared. I just want to stay here with you.”

“We can’t. I wish we could...but we can’t. I have  _ family time _ tonight, remember?” He says bitterly.

Right. Me too.

Which I don’t want to have to deal with.

“Kill your family and steal the house.”

“ _ Tempting _ ,” He says, grabbing clothes out of his dresser, “I’m going to go shower. I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t want you to  **leave** .” I complain.

“It will be like ten minutes max.”

“Don’t you ever think of all the things that could happen in ten minutes?”

“Do you want to sit in there with me? Or I can leave the door open, so I can hear you if you yell.”

“I just want to be safe. Leave the door open. If I start screaming, throw your clothes on and get in here. Please.”

“Okay. The bedroom door is locked, too. I’ll be right back.”

I take a deep breath and turn to the floor. 

I wish I never had to go home. Ever.

But also I have the chance to fix things, and…

There’s no way I’m going to be able to  _ fix  _ anything. This is bad. 

I allow myself to freak out until I hear the shower water stop. 

Damien is never gonna let me go home if I freak out too much. He’ll leave me with the old guy... _ Pierre _ . I don’t know why he thinks that’s okay. 

I would rather be at home.

But also, I would really rather not be home. 

By the time Damien comes back, I swear it’s been about two hours.

“Are we going to be able to talk tonight? Can you text me after  _ family time _ ?”

“Sure. It’s usually around eight or nine.”

“Okay… I would ask you to keep your phone on you, but as soon as I say anything, you’ll leave your family and get in trouble. I’ll spam you if anything is wrong and you can see it after.” I tell him. 

“I’ll still keep it on me. Just in case. Do you need to get ready?”

“I don’t want to go at all, but yeah. I’ll change and stuff. Give me one of your shirts.”

“You keep taking all of my shirts and I won’t have any to wear.”

Oh.  **_Awful_ ** .

“You have a thousand black shirts. I think you’ll be okay if I get three of them.”

“Fine. But I’m giving you one I don’t like as much.” He takes off his shirt and tosses it to me.

I’m not entirely sure where it goes, and I don’t really care.

I stare intently at him, desperate to  _ see _ .

“Um. Okay.” 

“Guess I have to go to school like this.  **Darn** .”

“No one needs to see  **_that_ ** .”

“Everyone needs to see that.” He argues.

“No. Put some damn clothes on, Damien.”

“ _ Damn, Damien _ .” He giggles, grabbing a red shirt from his dresser.

He isn’t going to school  **naked** . What the hell?

“Yeah. Why are you laughing? I’m serious.”

“Like the old meme…  _ Damn, Daniel _ …but  _ Damn, Damien _ …cause that’s me. I’m  _ Damien _ .  **_Damn_ ** .”

“I don’t know that  _ meme _ . Stop being weird.”

I don’t know what a  _ meme  _ is.

Who the fuck is  _ Daniel _ ?!

“It’s better than crying.”

“I’m going to cry. Right now. Stop.”

“Not if I do first.”

“Please lock me in the closet and leave. I’m done.” I go over to his closet and open it.

“Don't go in there.”

“Why not? Will it explode?”

“ _ ‘Cause… _ Yes.  **_Boom_ ** .”

“Okay. So, you want me to go in.”

“Do  _ not _ go in my closet. Go get ready.”

“I could do that. Or I could sit in here.” I sigh.

I don’t understand why he hides stuff from me. That’s the only reason he’s ever serious like that.

He walks up and shuts the closet in front of me. “I’ll make you food if you just go get ready.”

“No, don’t. I’ll just get ready and we can go. Don’t make anything.” 

“Too bad. I’m making you a Pop-Tart.”

“I won’t eat it.” I warn, going over to the bathroom instead.

“Fine, then it will just go to waste.”

“It would either way. You eat it instead.” 

“No.”

“Okay. Then it’s going to waste.” I say before shutting the door.

That’s the end of that conversation.

I can’t listen to him.

At least, not until after my dad leaves again.

He won’t be coming back for two years. By then, me and Damien will be living together, and we’ll be okay. I won’t need to involve myself with my dad at all.

If I do want to, I could do so safely.

Everything will be safe and easy.

I sigh, changing out of Damien’s shirt and into another one of Damien’s shirts.

That’s nice.

I brush my teeth and run my hand through my hair a couple times.

Perfect, I’m sure.

I open the door.

“Damien?” I start.

“Sup?”

I look over at him as soon as I hear his voice.

“Let’s go.” I say.

He holds something out to me.

“No.” I tell him instantly.

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“I don’t want  **_anything_ ** . Stop giving me stuff.”

“But…”

“Damien.  **Stop** .”

“...Fine. I guess I’ll  **keep** it.”

“Okay. Good. Let’s go.” I walk past him.

He follows behind me, making sure to go down the stairs first.

As usual.

He shows signs of some strange behavior, I think.

Once we get into the car, I buckle up and try to relax.

Get through this, then everything will be okay.

“Are you doing okay? I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not  _ mad _ . I’m very  **_scared_ ** . My dad isn’t like everyone else. He will fix me one way or another. Anything he sees as a problem… Which  _ you _ will be.”

“RIght. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help at all, just tell me.”

“I will. As soon as I think you can help. You can’t punch and fight your way out of this, though.” I point out.

“I know. But I’m sure you’ll find something I can help with. That isn’t violent. But punching and fighting has gotten me this far.”

“This isn’t some kid at school who’s being mean...which by the way, if you couldn’t tell, I don’t like you attacking them, either… This is my dad. Don’t even  _ talk _ to him.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

Good.

We’ll see how long that lasts.

…

School went well today, which is relieving. It wasn't until after school that the panic all came back. Because when I came out, my father was standing by a car. 

He calls my name out when he sees me, letting me know he’s here.

I look around for Damien, but he is nowhere to be found. 

Like that means anything, coming from me. He could literally be ten steps away. I wouldn’t know.

Should I text him? 

No… I don’t want him to get mad at me like he did last time I felt scared at school.

I devise a whole plan to get away from my father. I decide that if I run fast enough, then I might be able to get by...as if that would do anything. Just getting past him wouldn’t be enough.

_ Oh no, he’s coming over here. _ I should have known that standing here and thinking about it was the worst thing I should do. I should have went back inside and told a teacher. 

**_Stupid_ ** .  **Fucking** **_stupid_ ** .

“Josiah… You ran off so fast earlier. I didn’t even get to say  _ hi _ .” My father tells me, standing right in front of me.

That’s a bad thing. I can tell by the tone in his voice. This is one of the things that would get me nearly killed as a child. That’s how mad he is.

“I’m sorry, dad… I-I feel like you’re probably not allowed to talk to me.” I remind him of the rules. There’s a reason he was in prison...even if I don’t understand these particular rules, I still wish he would follow them.

“I’m an adult. I can do whatever the fuck I want. Let’s go home.” He goes to grab my arm.

I take a step back, stopping him from grabbing me. My face heats up.

I should have texted Damien… I have no idea what to do. I really, really don’t want to go with my dad. I know what he’s going to do to me if I go home with him.

“Josiah, don’t make me have to drag you.”

I ball up my fists in my hair, shaking my head.

I feel a hand on my back and I recognize the figure beside me without having to open my eyes.

"What’s going on here? I was supposed to drive Josiah home. Is there a problem?" Damien asks my father.

Oh god…

“I’m sorry. You must be one of his friends. I’m his father. What’s your name?” He puts on his  _ nice guy _ facade.

" _ Damien Cohen, _ " He says, "It's nice to meet you."

My father puts a hand out for him to shake, and he does.

“I can take Josiah today. I haven’t been able to lately, due to certain circumstances, but now that I can, I want to. I never got to spend enough time with him.” He sounds so sweet, I almost begin to feel comfortable, even though I know how hard he can hit. 

I just miss him… That’s why.

"Did you ask him what he wanted?" Damien asks, softening his tone slightly.

I guess it’s working on him, too.

“I assumed he would want to spend time with his father. But,  _ haha _ , you’re right…” My father stares right at me, and I feel his eyes drilling into me, “Josiah, is it okay if I drive you home tonight?”

...Is he going to kill me if I say  _ no _ ?

...He’s definitely going to kill me if I say  _ no _ .

“I guess so…” I force out.

“Thank you. Let’s go, then.” He goes to turn, and I naturally take a step forward to follow him. Damien stops me by grabbing the back of my shirt. I wince instantly.

“Stay with me..." He says softly.

“You two seem close.” My father cuts in with a gentle smile.

“Yeah, he’s a really close... _ friend _ ,” Damien says, giving him a sorry look, “Could you just let me talk to him real quick?”

“Yes, of course. Take your time.” 

I turn to Damien, confused.

“I just need to know if you think you can stay safe with him in the house, because I don't think you can.” He tells me.

“Maybe he won’t do anything…” I manage. Maybe I’m reading this all wrong and my father isn’t going to hurt me again. Maybe he has changed his views on discipline.

“Okay. I'll let you go, if you think so. But my phone will be on me at all times. And if you even suspect he’s going to hurt you, you call me immediately. I will answer, no matter what, and I’ll be there,  **_no matter what_ ** . Do you understand me? I can not lose you." He says the last part softly so no one can hear but me.

I nod and drag my eyes to my father before letting them go back to Damien. “I will.” I promise.

“Be careful. I have to go. Text me when you get home.” He orders.

I nod, feeling goosebumps form on my skin when he leaves. 

I’ll be okay. I’ll just call him if anything happens.

“Let’s go home.” My father tells me, catching my arm this time. I follow in tow, and I let him get me into the passenger's seat of his car. 

I buckle up instantly, sighing and leaning back. To my relief, the whole car ride home is silent. He doesn’t yell.

Until we’re home.

Until we are inside and no one can see.

“I’ve been told that you don’t listen. The rule in this house is that you be fucking silent, because you know how your aunt gets headaches. But you don’t listen. It must be programmed in your  _ stupid  _ brain to never listen to authority. Do I need to knock sense into you again? It’s been a long time.” He takes a fistful of my hair after locking the door.

“No. I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet, I-I always try to f-follow the rules and be g-good, dad.” I tell him, attempting to diffuse the situation.

He shoves my head back and crosses his arms, walking away. 

...Did that work?

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, texting Damien.

I got home safely. Don’t worry about me.

I crack a relieved smile, and just read Damien’s name in my phone a few times. 

I’m so glad Logan was beating the hell out of me that day, and the days after that... I don’t know what I would be doing right now if I didn’t meet Damien. 

I set the phone on the table, going to go get the charger for it.

“You have a cellphone?” My father notices, walking back over with a cigarette. He puts one end in his mouth and lights the other.

“Yeah. Damien got it for me. I-I can put your number into it, if you want.” I offer. 

He chuckles lowly. “Even if I tried to call you, you wouldn’t answer. Just like how, when I got here, you immediately disappeared. Do you know why?”

“If you called and I saw it, I would answer.” I promise.

He shakes his head and grabs the front of  _ my  _ shirt, tugging me closer to him. “Then why did you run?” 

My heart pounds in my chest, breath hitching. I feel my anxiety spike. 

“I-I was just...just a little s-scared-” I give my best shot at explaining, staring at the floor.

“I can’t understand you when you talk like that! Fucking look me in the eyes, and if you keep stammering like that, I’ll hit you! Tell me why you ran off.” He shakes me a bit, to urge me to answer faster.

“I thought...you might...might-” I hit the ground hard, being knocked down. 

I cover my eyes and curl my knees up to my chest. 

**Damn it** . 

How am I a straight A student when I am so damn stupid?! I should have stayed with Damien, at least! 

I knew this was going to happen...

After nothing happens for a moment, I lower my hands to see if he is going to do anything, or not.

“Get up.” He commands. 

I glance at where my phone is on the table. Could I get to it and call Damien if I move fast enough? 

I doubt it.

I stand carefully, a hand supporting my side that aches like hell. As soon as I’m up, he smacks my cheek hard enough to nearly knock me over again. 

I burst into tears.

“Dad- Please, stop.” I cry.

He shoves me by my shoulders, into the wall. “You don’t deserve a cellphone,” He goes over and snatches my phone from the table, looking at the screen, “Damien says he wants you to  _ avoid your dad as much as possible _ . The fuck did you tell him about me?” 

If I don’t give him the proper answer that he wants, then he will punish me for it. The issue is that I don’t know what answer he wants. I just sob, starting to tremble.

He sits on the couch, and I think I hear him tell me to be quiet, so I quickly silence myself with a hand over my mouth.

I can’t wait to go to school tomorrow…

I can’t wait to just be with Damien again...

…

About an hour or two pass before everyone is asleep and I get my phone, instantly texting Damien.

How was your evening? 💛😊 

**_Damien_ ** : Eventful. You?

its been rough.. are you going to bed soon?

**_Damien_ ** : not planning on it. do you want to talk about it?

No 😔

wanna talk about dogs?

**_Damien_ ** : um ofc. i saw acuteone on instagram and wanted to show you. theyre called samoyeds

He sends a picture of a white fluffy thing.

That’s a cloud.

**_Damien_ ** : I KNOW I LOVE THEM VERY MUCH WE COULD NAME IT MARSHMALLOW!!!!

OH MY GOSH YES

**_Damien_ ** : I CRI 😭😭

I want it now. Go get one and bring it to me

**_Damien_ ** : I CANNOT. 

**_Damien_ ** : sorry forgot caps was on

**_Damien_ ** : we have nowhere to put it

bullshit we could have a hundred dogs in your house

holy shit can we have a hundred dogs please

**_Damien_ ** : N O

No?? 😢🥺

**_Damien_ ** : N O O O O

**_Damien_ ** : WE CANNOT CARE FOR 100 DOGS WE CAN HARDLEY LOOK AFTER OURSLEVS

You promised pets😭 

**_Damien_ ** : yeah. In 35 years when we live togther then we can get ONE dog

one year.

We have been over this we arent jjoking about waiting that long

  
**_Damien_ ** : ...right srry 

**_Damien_ ** : in one year we can have one dog….or maybe not have a dog in a year, it depends where we live and what kind of time we have for it….not to mention pet care and also food and vet bills

ONE OF EACH DOG

**_Damien_ ** : not what i said at A L L 

please.

just say yes so i can be happy

**_Damien_ ** : no can do. just pretend you have 100 dogs

I cant.

☹️😢

**_Damien_ ** : bro i just looked it up, we would have 344 dogs if we had one of each offical kind

oh thats a lot

OF CUDDLING AND PETS AND LOVE❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

**_Damien_ ** : I think one dog and one cat is enough love to go arond. then it will be you and me and two pets forever 

**_Damien_ ** : 💙🐶🐱👬💛

**_Damien_ ** : that's us

Thats cute

thanks

**_Damien_ ** : ofc babe 😘

i miss you

**_Damien_ ** : same x2

i wish you were here

or i wish i was with you. that would be better

**_Damien_ ** : same x infinity

are you going to sleep now?

its bedtime

**_Damien_ ** : ahahah no

**_Damien_ ** : bro i almost just died

what??????????

**_Damien_ ** : its chill now

**_Damien_ ** : dont worry lol

what the hell happened????????????

**_Damien_ ** : meh almost fell of my roof lol

are you okay???????????????????

****

**_Damien_ ** : ive had alot ofalchol

**_Damien_ ** : imgrand how r u

what the fuck

okay goodnight

**_Damien_ ** : ohbye then

**_Damien_ ** : love uuuuuuuuuuuuu❤️💜💞💝💟💓🖤💛💗💖❣️💙💕💘💝💟💟❤️💟💞💜❤️💕💕💖💗💙💙

what? no

Come back

**_Damien_ ** : ….wot

**_Damien_ ** : u saidbedtime

**_Damien_ ** : so i figured u wanted 2 go

**_Damien_ ** : cause yeah

i was just mad

i dont want u to stop talking to me

**_Damien_ ** : ohisee

**_Damien_ ** : oki hi then

**_Damien_ ** : did i tell u how cute u were this morning

**_Damien_ ** : i bought u a dinosuar plushie but u didnt want it so its on my bed

okay. i dont want it

can i tell u something

**_Damien_ ** : oki i gueesill adopt him

**_Damien_ ** : his name is jeff

**_Damien_ ** : whatsup

nevermind

we’ll talk when youre not being dumb

**_Damien_ ** : im NOT being dumb

**_Damien_ ** : talk to me 4real

**_Damien_ ** : what's going on

what you are doing is the very definition of being dumb

nevermind. im just scared

we’ll talk later. maybe tomorrow.

if youve stopped being dumb

**_Damien_ ** : i wont drink in front of u

**_Damien_ ** : i know u dont like it

**_Damien_ ** : yeah we can talk tomrrow i guess and you dont have to be scared cause

**_Damien_ ** : I L O V E Y O U SO THERE

stop drinking. it doesnt do anything other than hurt people

I love you too and im very scared. just tell me we’ll be okay and im going to bed

**_Damien_ ** : i love you

**_Damien_ ** : we will be more then okay, we will be happy

**_Damien_ ** : and i hope you get some sleep 2night

Okay.

goodnight for real🥰.

go to bed. love you💛💙💛💙💛💙

**_Damien_ ** : hahaha no love u 2

This is why he’s always sleeping every day.

If he just learned to sleep at night, it would make things a lot easier for him.

That’s just him being dumb. 

As usual.

Not that I’m going to sleep, but…

I just want to complain. I guess.

End


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Wednesday, October 20th-

Last night was intolerable.

Some nights, I can drink until I pass out. That way I’m forced to get some sleep, but others…

I sat on my roof and watched the sun rise, my bottle long past empty.

As long as I take a brisk shower and have a cup of really strong coffee, I’ll be fine.

But I panicked all night long, and I’m still shaking.

After my quick shower, I brush my teeth and slip on a black hoodie and ripped jeans.

It’s chilly out.

I go ahead and put on a beanie, too, before I go downstairs and make some really strong coffee.

I make Josiah lunch, not that he’ll take it.

But at least I can try…

He won’t even eat when he’s here.

I’m really really worried about him.

I just need a break from everything.

School, and my parents, and even all of this stuff with Josiah…

I just have to make it to graduation…then it can be just us.

I take my coffee and me and Josiah’s lunches with me, texting him as I leave my driveway.

The car’s warmed up by the time I get to his house.

I send him a text telling him I’m here.

He comes out in just his sweater and jeans.

I wonder if he has a coat…?

I need to get him one…

I’ll add it to my ever growing mental list…

As he gets in the car, I say, “Idea. Let’s just drive until we run out of gas and then hitch a ride until we hit the border. And keep going until we’re happy.”

Yeah fucking right... **_happy_ ** . As if graduation will change that…

“Thought we had to _ wait for graduation _ .” He replies.

“We do. But I can’t do school today.”

“It’ll be okay. We can hold hands.” 

Shit…

“Are you sure? As soon as we do, everyone will know about us.”

Am I ready to come out like that…?

What even am I? 

I’m not  _ gay _ . I like girls.

But I like Josiah…

I don’t know…

But, if that’s true… I’m burning forever.

My chest constricts and I have to take a deep breath. My hands shake even more.

“Why would that matter? No one cares. Do you realize what year it is?” 

“I know. I…” I stop. “I’m sorry. I don’t…” I have to stop and breathe a second.

**Fuck** .

_ I can’t _ …

I can’t freak out in front of him.

“Do you not want to…?  _ Damien… _ ”

“No! I… I want to, I’m just…” I exhale and admit in a small voice, “ **I’m scared** .”

“Of  **_what_ ** ?"

“I… What people think, what people will say…if somehow my parents found out, or…”

“The only thing anyone is going to think is  _ why is big, tough Damien Cohen walking around with some little nerd _ . The only thing that is fair to worry about is your parents.”

“...Right. You’re not a nerd.”

“People will be very confused.” He laughs.

Don’t panic.

_ Don't panic _ …

“I’m confused. What am I? Doesn’t it bother you to not have a label? For, like, your sexuality?”

“I never considered it. I don’t think of anyone that way, so why would it matter? You like girls, and you like me, right? What’s the problem here? Why would you be  _ confused _ ?”

“I’ve liked other boys.” I say quietly. 

_ Parker…  _ **_Ethan_ ** _ … _

“Then why are you worried about it? You just like whoever. It doesn’t matter.”

“ _ Because I’m not  _ **_allowed_ ** … God, now I sound like you.” I laugh bitterly.

“Not allowed to like boys…? Then why do you? Don’t lie to yourself or anything.” 

“Because I just DO. If it was a fucking choice, I wouldn’t have chosen this!”

My breathing gets hard again and I have to calm down…

He can’t know…

God.

“Liking someone isn’t a choice. But acting on it is.”

“I-I love you,” I say quietly, “You deserve to be with someone who will be with you in public…”

“If you don’t want to, it literally doesn’t matter.  **You** deserve better than  **me** , so don’t say that.” 

“It matters to me.”

I… I need to be that person for him. I focus on breathing.

_ In and out _ …

Not that fucking hard,

“I’ll do it.” I decide.

“Don’t force yourself.”

“No. I’m  **doing** it.”

After the first time, It will get easier.

It has to.

“Don’t do it for me. If you’re doing it, do it for yourself.” 

I…

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be  _ sorry _ .” 

“I am. I’m just… It’s been a bad night. Or morning now, technically, I guess.” I drink my coffee with shaky hands as I pull into the school parking lot.

I’m not ready.

But I have to be.

**For** **_him_ ** .

“Yeah. What was up with you last night? What happened?”

“Just the impending panic and doom that’s been slowly building since I was born. No biggie.” I try to brush it off.

How do you politely say  _ I want to fucking die? _

“You scare me.”

_ Shit. _

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t want you to be scared of me anymore.” I park the car in our usual spot so he can find the car when we get out.

“ **Damien** . Take care of yourself, okay? Please. Don’t hurt yourself.”

I…

“I won’t.” I lie.

Either I’m getting better at lying, or he just really wants to believe it’s true, because he takes it.

“What does all this entail at school anyway?”

"Can I h-hold your hand? In the hall?"

I mean, we're essentially choosing the death penalty anyway. 

"Of course." I smile at him. 

I just sit there, not moving.

"W-We're going to be late." Josiah says, getting out and slipping his backpack on.

I take a deep breath.

I can't do this... 

_ I can't do this _ ...

**_I can't_ ** …

I breathe again. Josiah needs me.

_ Josiah before myself. _

**_I’ll be fine_ ** _. _

I step out and slip my backpack on.

I stare at Josiah for only a moment before I take his hand and we start walking in together.

There's no going back now.

We walk into the school, and immediately, it feels like everyone is staring at us. Even though no one is.

I stop in the doorway and Josiah has to say, "Damien, why are you stopping? We need to g-get to class..."

**I** **_can't_ ** .

I can't do this.

My chest feels so tight, I swear I'm going to explode.

I breathe and feel Josiah tug on my hand.

"Please, Damien." He begs.

I get my legs to move finally, and we walk to his locker.

“Do you feel better about it yet?” He asks.

I shake my head, not trusting myself to talk…

Wait. That won’t work.

_ He’s blind, dumb-ass. _

“Not really,” I admit, “Just…give me time. I’ll be okay.”

He pulls his hand away. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“No. I want to. Please,” I hold my hand out again, “Let me walk you to your first class.”

“You need to get to class, too…?”

“You have math first, right? It’s right across from my English. I see you come out of there all the time.  **Please** .”

Despite being scared, I still want to be close to him.

“Okay. Whatever you want. Always.”

I take his hand again and walk with him to class. “Thank you.”

“You’re...welcome…? I guess.”

When we get to his class I say, “Okay. See you at lunch?”

“Yup. Okay.” 

…

At lunch I sit down beside him at his table.

It took all of the small amount of energy I had just to focus and take notes in class.

I pull our lunches from our bag and hand his to him.

“Hello.” I say.

“Hey. How were your classes?”

“They’re okay. I got a B plus in my Spanish quiz from the other day.”

Now that I won’t have lunch to study, I’ll have to be careful about actually studying with Josiah tonight.

“That’s amazing! We can look at the material again after school today. You’ll get an A next time.”

“I’m just happy that I’m passing now. All of my classes, actually.”

“Yeah. I’m proud of you.” He smiles at me. 

“Thanks. I know you won’t believe me, but I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“I believe you.  _ Because tutoring _ .” 

I laugh, “ _ Because tutoring _ . We should make shirts that say that.” I start eating my lunch.

“That would be so dumb. Do it.” 

“Maybe for  **Christmas** .”

My panic slowed down around my second class.

It’s not nearly as bad as it was.

“... _ For Christmas _ ? Um…okay. That works.” He says.

“How about you? Anything interesting happen?” I ask, sitting my sandwich down and resting my head on my hand, looking over at him.

He doesn’t realize how  **pretty** he is, and no matter how much I tell him, it won’t ever be enough. 

He brushes his hair from his eyes. “Not particularly. Just class as usual… Honestly, it was kind of hard to pay attention today.” He sighs. 

“Same. I keep nodding off.”

He shifts his sleeves over his hands, and every time he does this, because his sweaters are like two sizes too big, I get a peek at his collarbones…

Goddamn, didn’t think I was a  _ collarbone man _ ..

I think I'm just a  _ Josiah man… _

“Maybe if you would fucking sleep at night.”

“I try to!” 

Everytime I lay down, My brain takes over and it’s nothing good.

“You fall asleep every time we hang out. You can’t claim that, all the sudden, every night,  _ you don’t sleep because you  _ **_can’t_ ** .”

“It’s different when it’s with you! My brain stops being annoying as fuck when you’re around. And then I calm down…and then I fall asleep! I’ll try to be better about that. I’m sorry.” I sit my head on the table in front of me, almost squishing my sandwich.

That would have been hilarious.

“Don’t fall asleep right now.” He laughs. 

“I’m not sleeping, I’m  **sad** .”

“I was just saying. We have a lot to do today.” 

“I know. I’ll just slam down a pot of coffee when I get home.” I say into the table.

“You should stop that, too. Caffeine isn’t good for you. And coffee tastes like dirt.”

“Good. Maybe I’ll…” I stop. He doesn’t like the suicide jokes. “It doesn’t taste like dirt.” I end lamley. 

He narrows his eyes at me.

Yeah. He knew what I was going to say...

“It tastes like you mixed dirt and water.”

“My favorite. Nothing better than getting up and licking the backyard.”

“...What?” 

“... _ What _ ?” I retort, looking up at him.

He’s smiling slightly, but mostly looks confused.

Per usual.

“You...eat dirt?”

“No. It was a joke.” I sigh, laying my head down again. “Is the day over yet?”

“Not even close. Is it okay if we only do  _ tutoring _ for like, two hours…?”

“Then I take you home?” 

Maybe his dad needs him, or something…

Another thing to be worried about.  _ His dad. _

“I just don’t want to have to come up with excuses. It’ll be easier if I actually come home every night, and… I kinda have a curfew now.”

Great.

Less Josiah time.

The only fucking thing keeping me sane.

I’m assuming that means all the  _ sleepovers _ are over now, too.

I’ll be fine.

Just make it to graduation, and…

_ Right _ .

“Okay. That’s fine.” I manage, hoping it sounds convincing.

I need to get better at this  _ lying  _ stuff. And fast.

If I don’t want him constantly worried about me, that is.

He has way too much he’s dealing with already, without having to keep an eye on me.

“Don’t be mad. If I could change it, I would in a heartbeat.”

“I’m not mad. I know you would, bud.” I sigh into the table. It’s not very comfy, but it’s a fucking table, so I’m not expecting much.

“You sound  **very** upset.” 

“I’m not upset at you.” I correct. 

“Yes, you are…” He mutters, “Not a big deal. I know it’s upsetting.” 

“It is. But it’s not your fault. It wouldn’t be fair for me to be mad at you.”

“ **_Okay_ ** .” 

“Hey. I love you. For real,” I say, sitting up, “Can I hold your hand?”

“I love you, too. That doesn’t mean we can’t be mad at each other sometimes.” He holds his hand out to me. 

“Yeah, I know. I just like saying it. I like reminding myself why I’m happy sometimes.” I say, taking his hand and intertwining our fingers.

His hand fits perfectly in mine.

“Okay… I’m glad we can be together at school now.” 

“Me too. I’m not freaking out as much anymore. No one was mean. And I haven’t even seen Logan or any of them today, did you? Have they approached you?”

Not after beating the living hell out of Ethan…

“You haven’t? And did you really just ask me if I’ve  _ seen _ specific people today?”

I sigh, “You know what I mean,  _ Walker _ . Have they approached you?”

“No, they haven’t. And don’t call me that, or else.”

“ _ Or else _ ?” I smile, “Is that a threat? Are you going to  _ beat me up _ ?”

“Yes,  _ or else  _ is generally considered a threat. And no. I’ll do something way worse.” 

“Worse? Like what?”

“Say it again and I’ll show you.”

“ _ Walker _ .”

He pulls his hand away and looks in a different direction.

“What? Wait! Not fair!” I complain.

He doesn’t react to me at all.

“Josiah!” I complain, “I actually hate this. I’m sorry.”

It...reminds me of when his dad came back. And he was just...blank.

I didn’t know what to do then and I sure as hell don’t know what to do now.

I start to panic and I feel my hands begin shaking again.

Calm down. 

He’s joking…?

“I...I’m sorry,” I say again, “I won’t say it again. Ever.”

“Don’t call me  _ Walker _ .” He says.

He looks so serious.

I didn’t know it bothered him for real...

“O-Okay,” I take a shaky breath, “I won’t. Just  _ don’t _ do that again.”

I hold my hands together, trying to get them to stop shaking.

“Damien…? Why not? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Please let the lie work for fucking  **once** .

“Which  _ thing _ did I do that was the problem?”

“It’s really scary when you do that… The  _ not res... _ **_responding thing_ ** . You’ve done it before.” 

“Oh…  _ That _ . I do that when I get really scared. It’s not a big deal.”

It is a big deal. It’s like he’s not  _ there _ anymore.

“Sorry. I’m just really off today.”

No. I’ve been  _ off _ for a long time.

I just need to figure out how to pretend I’m not.

“I understand. If it bothers you so much, all you need to do to stop it is start yelling. Everyone says it’s the only thing that gets my attention.”

“I’m not going to yell at you. Last time I just waited until you came back to me.”

It scared the absolute shit out of me but, It worked.

“ _ Came back to you _ …?”

“It’s like you’re not even there when you do that. Like you died, or something... It’s scary. At least the crying I can kinda figure out.” I hold my hand together tighter. 

I need to breathe.

Talking helps.

“Yeah? I don’t know. I never remember any of it. I think my brain runs away from problems.”

That’s  _ scary _ .

He shouldn’t be allowed to say I scare him, because all he does is terrify me.

“That’s interesting.”

I’m sure there’s some big psychological thing that makes him do that…

“You didn’t eat any of your lunch.” I point out the bag I handed him a bit ago.

“Did you expect me to?”

“No, but I was hoping you would. You don’t ever eat enough.”

Another thing to be worried about...

“I feel fine. When it becomes a problem, I’ll eat.”

“Okay.”

I can’t argue with him right now.

I just have to get through today…

Then tomorrow.

Then every single day for the rest of my life…

God...

I’m so tired…

End


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Wednesday, October 20th-

Damien has been off lately… 

I can’t help but to worry about him.

A lot. All day. 

He’s given me no reason to trust that he won’t… _ do something _ …

I don’t know. I don’t like thinking about it. 

Him getting hurt is my biggest fear. As long as that doesn’t happen, we’re okay.

I stare at him as he does his homework.

I’m glad we’re actually getting something done. It makes it feel more worthwhile, but I still get to be with him.

He doesn’t do very well with talking and math at the same time. 

But that’s okay. I’ll just watch him and wait for him to ask for help, or anything else he wants…

...I wonder if he secretly hates it when I just stare at him like this. 

My dad would…

“How’s it going?” I try to stop my thoughts.

We’re doing tutoring at the table this time, to keep him from falling asleep...

“It’s going. I only have two left.”

“Do you feel pretty confident with it?”

“Um, mostly, so far. I guess we’ll see when you check them.” He chuckles.

He doesn’t need me for this.

“Okay. Tell me when you’re done.” 

I hate that thought. It keeps coming back.

_ He doesn’t need me _ .

It’s ridiculous. I’m not even 100% sure that Damien ever needed a tutor in the first place.

After all, he started inviting me over because he thought I was cute…

Ha…

I crack a smile but quickly get rid of it.

“...Done yet?” I ask. 

“It’s not even been a minute since you asked last.”

“I panicked.”

“Oh. No. Not yet.” He turns back to his paper.

There’s no way time is going that slow…

It’s been at least ten minutes. For sure. 

I rub my eyes and sigh deeply. 

I like Damien in ways I won’t even admit to myself. 

Sometimes it scares me, sometimes it’s... _ nice... _ ? 

I’m not sure. It’s just different.

I guess what I mean is sometimes how much I like him and specific things about him doesn’t scare me. Those times are very nice.

Why isn’t he done yet? 

I shift a bit, facing him. 

He would have said something about the staring by now. I’m sure. 

After being around him so much, and getting to know how he looks, and the way it feels when he holds my hand or wraps his arms around me…

There’s a physical attraction going on here.

That’s hard to admit because I don’t like what it entails.

Finally, he looks up at me.

“Done?” I ask softly.

“Yep. Here.” He holds out the  _ practice homework _ to me.

I take it from him and bring it to my face.

“Let me ask you again… What’s your confidence level with these?”

“Three.”

“ **_Three_ ** ? Out of…?” 

“One hundred.”

“Oh. Shit, okay,” I read over the rest of them and set it down, “If that was a test… Do you know what your grade would be?”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“It’s a C. Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Math is usually his best subject out of all of them we do...

“Sorry, I can’t focus… The numbers are just like... _ swimming _ , bro.”

“ **_Swimming_ ** ? You’re usually so good at this… Do you want to try something else, or…? Try math again? We needed to look at Spanish. And what time is it? I need to be home by seven for sure.” I tell him.

“It’s only just now five. And I don’t know.” He sighs.

“What if we take a short break then try Spanish until it’s time to go?” I suggest.

Maybe he just needs some time to calm down. To help him focus. 

“Maybe. We really don’t have enough time to take a break…”

“But if you’re not going to pay attention, and… I don’t know, Damien.”

“I was paying attention!” He protests, “I just don’t get it. I’m  **bad** at math.”

“You are not paying attention. To the numbers, if they’re  _ swimming _ . The thing is, you’re not bad at math. We’ve been over this.” 

I’m worried…

What’s bothering him? Why won’t he just be straight and upfront about it?

“Right. Fine. Let’s just  **stop** .” He sits his head on the table again.

“You want to  _ stop _ ? No. Take a break, get a snack… Get your mind off of whatever it is that you’re worried about. Talk about it.  **Something** .” 

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“ **What’s wrong** ?” I press on.

“Nothing’s  _ wrong _ . I’m just  **stupid** .”

“You seem upset.  **Always** . Like something bad is going on.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just tired and can’t sleep, and as soon as one thing ends, another one starts, and everything’s going really fast and really slow at the same time…” He rambles.

“Okay. If this is about your family, you can tell me about them. I don’t know why everything about them is a secret.” I tell him.

“I can’t.” He whispers, running his fingers through his hair slowly.

I watch his hand. 

“I don’t know why, but okay. What else? Why are you saying  _ one thing ends, another one starts _ ?” 

“I... I miss my  _ friends _ . And as soon as I think we’re okay, something happens with my parents, then something with school, then something else…then my parents again. I can’t handle it. I-I  **can't** do this. And I don’t want you to worry, but I can tell you do worry.”

“Of course I worry about you. I could never be happy if anything happened to you, and… I never know what you’re going to  **do** .”

“Can I hold your hand?” He asks quietly.

“...Let’s go sit on the couch for a little while. I think we need hugs.” I decide.

“Okay.” He gets up and leads me to the stairs, stopping at the bottom, waiting for me.

I like messing with him and just standing there, but I don’t have that in me today. 

We go upstairs and to his room. I go straight to the couch to sit down. 

“C’mere.” I open my arms for him after sitting.

He sits down and hugs me to him tightly, burying his face in my shoulder. He’s shaking.

“Can I touch your hair?” I ask.

I don’t get this whole  _ asking  _ thing, but I figured that, I don’t like certain things, so...maybe he doesn’t, either? 

He never tells me what he likes and what he doesn’t. 

“ _ Please _ .” He replies.

I run my fingers into his hair, pressing against his scalp a bit. 

This is nice. 

I don’t know why, but it is.

“...The way life works, is that there’s always good things and bad things. That’s what it’s supposed to be like. Anything you don’t focus on will go away. Stop focusing so much on the bad things. We’ll be okay.”

_ As long as we can fucking stay alive… _

“You’re one of my only good things. I can't lose you.” He holds onto me tightly, not moving except for the shaking.

I push his hair in the wrong direction to mess it up.

“You’re my only good thing,” I sigh, “I wish you had a lot of good things. You will someday.”

“I hope so.”

“You need to find other good things soon. Don’t rely on me so much.” 

I want to kiss him. Now isn’t the time.

“I’m sorry. If it feels like too much on you. I’m trying…”

“I don’t feel pressure. I just want more stable things for you to lean on. Something really good for you that won’t go away.” 

“You’re going away?!” He shudders.

“Damn, I hope not…” I say, rubbing his back instead, “I can’t control what life does to me. I don’t know what could happen. I  **_want_ ** to stay with you forever.”

“Then stay. Don’t hope for it.  **Just** **_stay_ ** .”

“Damien. I don’t have control over  **anything** .” 

“Just say it so I can pretend everything will be okay.  _ Please _ .”

I should. He usually does for me.

“At any given moment, something could happen. The best thing is to be prepared. For anything, always.” 

“That would be better. But I can’t do that. So if it works for you, cool, but my brain won’t let me. Because for everything we do everyday there are countless possibilities and with every countless possibility comes a possibility for something bad and no one can prepare for that, so even if you think you’re prepared, you’re not. Ever.”

“Okay. That isn’t true, but  **okay** . You can always be prepared. It’s not that hard to say  _ this is likely, what will I do when this happens? _ ”

It’s hard to think about a lot of times, but...it can still be prepared for.

I know what I would do if I lost Damien.

It’s not... **_good_ ** , but I know.

“I guess.” He mumbles against me.

I push him back slightly and grab his face. 

“Hey. Look at me,” I tell him, “Are you looking?”

“I am now.” He sounds like he’s crying.

“Okay. Good.”

I stare into his eyes for a minute.

“We’re okay right now.” I promise softly.

“I wish that was enough.”

“It is. Let it be. I love you,” I shut my eyes and kiss his lips gently, “Okay? No more tears. No crying, no worrying. Just us, right now. Yeah?”

“Yeah.  _ Just us _ .” He says, nuzzling into my shoulder again.

I start petting his hair back again. He doesn’t seem to have any complaints. That’s good.

“I love you.” I repeat. 

“I love you, too.  _ Thank you _ .”

“I really needed you in my life. Do you realize how unhappy I would be without you? Or worse… And you saved me and you’re making things okay. Because you say  _ I love you _ , and you give me good touches, and promise this ideal life. I want us to be happy.” 

“I want that, too. More than anything else.”

I kiss his head. “Not everything will be perfect, but I think… If I’m with you, and we’re safe, I’ll be happy.”

I want to make him promise. But that feels mean.

“I think so, too.”

I hug him and relax. He’s still shaking. I don’t think he’s reassured, but I am.

I will be until I have to go home.

“I’m happy right now.” I inform him.

“I’m glad. I like it when you’re happy.”

If it’s 5:00, then I get to be like this for two more hours…

I wonder if we could just stay right here until then.

“We’re not moving until it’s time to go.” 

“Good. I doubt I could if I tried.”

I shift to get comfortable.

“Good…” I mumble.

…

Nearly two hours later, we barely moved. 

There’s something really pleasant and calming about holding him like this. I think it’s knowing that he’s safe, and actually feeling like I’m doing something; Helping somehow. 

I’m pretty sure he has fallen asleep, since he hasn’t said anything in the past hour. 

But now it’s time to go. 

I sigh. 

I don’t  **_want_ ** to leave enough to deal with having to wake him up. 

Nonetheless, I have to. 

I shake him just a bit. “Hey, time to get up. I have to go home. Come on…” 

I leave a few soft kisses on top of his head. 

I don’t want to let go of him. 

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.” I force a weak laugh. 

He shifts a bit and grumbles something.

“Damien, I can’t get in trouble. If you want to keep me, we have to go.  **Let’s go** .” I drag myself away from him.

Goddammit. 

He mutters curse words under his breath.

“Bye.” I say.

“Don’t. I’ll take you.” He sits upright. 

“Okay. Hurry up.” 

I go out the door and he quickly goes past me to go down the stairs first.

Okay…?

I’m pretty sure he watches very intently as I go downstairs after him. 

“Maybe you need to get into the habit of holding my hand when we go up and down stairs, instead of freaking out and staring at me.” I point out.

“Well, I couldn’t do that like four weeks ago, could I?”

“I guess so. But you’re young, you could learn.”

“I’ll...consider it.”

I smile at him. 

I’ll be happy until I’m home.

We get into the car and he starts it up.

If I don’t think about it, then I can keep being happy…

Just don’t worry. Then things will be okay, as long as nothing bad is currently happening.

_ There _ .

It’s not working, but it was a good plan.

“I’ll talk to you tonight. But we should go to sleep. By, like… 11:00.” I say.

“We should, yeah.”

“If I don’t text you before then, assume something is wrong.” I warn.

I can’t  **_prepare_ ** him. That’s upsetting. 

“What do you want me to do if it is? Do you think something will be wrong?”

“Just, be…” Don’t say  _ prepared _ , “Prepared.”

**_Oh_ ** .

“For what?! Josiah, you’re freaking me out. Should I keep you here?”

“No. I have to go home. I’m just saying. My dad can be senseless sometimes, and… There’s some things that will mess me up. He won’t  _ kill _ me. Don’t worry about that. That isn’t something you need to worry about.”

“Stay with me tonight. Please.”

“He’ll be gone in a couple weeks. All I need to do is follow his rules until then. So, I listen to him, and be home on time. That’s how we keep things  _ okay _ .”

“Okay, he’s your dad. I’ll take you home, but, if it gets to be more than you can handle, call me and I’ll come get you  **no matter what** .”

Yeah, he would. That’s a problem.

The first thing I want to say is  _ not if you’re in Puerto Rico _ , but I have more control than that.

“Hopefully,” I say instead, “If you can.”

I feel like that implies the same thing. 

Shit. 

“Yeah. If I could get out of everything, I would. You know that, right? But...they’re not going to let me go without a fight.”

“Yes, and I don’t want you to fight with them. I’ll be fine. I’ll just...look after myself.” 

“I think I’m going to have to fight with them no matter what. That is something I can try to  _ prepare _ for.”

“Don’t fight with them because of me. Okay?”

“Okay. I won’t.”

I don’t reply after that, because I’m not entirely sure how much I trust him on that. But I’m not going to argue. I’ll at least try to keep things good for the next ten minutes before I’m home.

Just stay silent and enjoy his company for a little while.

For once, time decides to go fast. 

I feel a spike of panic in my chest, but I look at Damien and smile. 

“I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.” I tell him.

“Right, I won’t be driving you anymore.” 

“Yeah. Except home on Wednesdays and Fridays. And we can talk every day during lunch. It’ll be fine.” 

“I already miss you and you’re right here.”

“I miss you, too,” I turn to him, “Goodbye kiss?” 

He leans over and kisses me gently on the lips.

“Alright. I love you. Bye.” I say.

“Love you, too.”

I sit still for a moment. 

If we ran away and went really, really far, no one would be able to find us. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about his parents, and he could forget about everyone at school, and start fresh, and find new friends…

I won’t have to be afraid. I still will be, but I won’t  **have** to. 

No more getting hurt. 

“Wait…” I start.

This is a bad idea. 

“What is it?”

“Let’s leave. I know we joke about it, but it would make things so much easier if we went far away from here. And we won’t have to worry anymore.” I suggest.

“...We can’t. Real life  **doesn’t** work that way.”

It could. 

“Are you sure? I’m scared.”

“...” He stays silent for a moment, as if considering it. “Josiah… We can’t. We just have to make it until graduation, okay?”

“I don’t want to go in there. It’s cold.” I go on.

“Do you want my sweatshirt?”

“Why would I put a sweatshirt on over a sweater?"

“...Because it’s cold?”

“That won’t fix it. You know what makes all the cold go away? Hugs.” I persist.

“Come home with me tonight, then.”

“Then what? Be brought back here tomorrow when you have  _ family time _ ? And just be in loads of trouble? I know I said he wouldn’t kill me, but if I wasn’t home when he told me to be, I’m not sure.” 

I’m making it worse. I need to stop thinking of alternatives to this.

He shuffles a bit and then hands me something. “Take it. I can’t be there, but I can at least try and make sure you’ll be warm.”

I’m going to cry and go against everything I told him earlier. Everything I say is hypocritical. 

“Okay… Thank you. Bye.” I push the car door open.

It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t see me cry. Then I’m the only one who knows I’m a fake.

“Bye.”

I shut the car door and hold back the panic. 

I hold the sweatshirt against my chest. If anything, I’ll curl up in it and use it like a sleeping bag.

I have a feeling Damien would think that’s cute.

I go into the house, and everything is silent, which means they’re most likely in bed.

Good. 

I’m sure that’s normal.

I go over to the couch and sit down, pulling the sweatshirt down over my head.

I miss Damien a lot. It feels like it’s been a really long time, considering it’s been about a minute. 

I bring my knees up to my chest, covering my hands with the freakishly long sleeves.

I’m keeping this. I hope he knows that.

I can relax if I pretend he’s here.

I close my eyes and sigh deeply. I’m not good at pretending.

Before I can even start to relax, the bedroom door opens. 

“Had to make sure it was you.” My aunt says.

“Yeah…” I murmur. 

I’m not going to fight with them right now.

“Josiah,” My dad starts, making me look over at him, “Your uncle passed away today. I think it’s time you show some respect for him, since you never have.”

“What do you want me to say?” I ask. 

I don’t understand the point in respecting people when they’re dead. It defeats the purpose of respect. 

My uncle never earned any respect in the first place. All he ever did was abuse his daughters and made me into something I never wanted to be. 

He deserved  _ nothing _ .

“Stop lying about things he supposedly did, for starters.” He says.

“I haven’t ever lied about him. You didn’t think he was a good person, did you?” 

Considering my dad has known him his whole life, he should understand this. 

He knows what he’s done.

“See, that’s disrespect. That’s what you’re not allowed to do anymore.” 

“It’s not. It’s honesty.” 

“Then don’t be  _ honest _ .” My aunt says.

That’s funny.

“You better learn to keep your mouth shut before the funeral. If you say any of that shit to my parents, I’ll kill you.” He tells me.

_ Okay _ . 

“What if I just don’t go?” I suggest instead.

“You’re going as long as you’re alive.” He replies.

Unless I run away…

Which I can’t do on my own, and I can’t convince Damien to do with me…

I’m going to have to go.  _ As long as I’m alive _ .

“Alright. I will.” 

They go silent in confusion for a second.

I don’t think anyone ever expects me to comply.

The bedroom door slams shut a moment later, making me wince.

But it’s okay. I got out of it by listening and obeying.

That’s all I need to do.

I put the hood on over my head and curl up tightly, trying to stay warm and focus on how Damien’s sweatshirt smells like him.

Yeah…

He’s never getting this back.

End


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Friday, October 22nd-

I see Josiah at lunch.

We've eaten together the past few days, and I love the alone time we get.

"Afternoon,  **_nerd_ ** ." I say, setting the lunch that I know he won't eat down in front of him.

“Hi. What’s up?” He asks.

I make a show of looking up, not that he can see it.

I guess I did it just for myself…

" _ The ceiling _ ."

“Oh, cool.”

"What's up? Anything interesting?” I ask back.

He looks up. “Not sure. Apparently, a ceiling. It’s white. That’s  _ interesting _ .”

I sit down beside him. "Yeah. Sure…"

I clear my throat. "Anyway, that was weird. I guess, did anything interesting happen between today’s lunch and yesterday's lunch?"

“No. I live an uneventful life.”

"Fair. Me and Pierre made a pie."

“What kind of pie?” 

"Apple Cinnamon." I pull my lunch out, "You know, there's a piece in your lunch bag."

“Oh. I bet it’s good.” He says.

"You won’t know if you don't try it." I bribe him.

“I can’t. My dad being around makes me more prone to  **_guilt_ ** .” 

Damn.

"I tried, I guess. Well, at least read your dinosaur facts or I'll cry."

“I know all of them, Damien…” He complains.

I scowl down at my food. "I just can't win today."

“Another rough day…?” He asks. 

"Yeah. But at least I get to see you." I try to smile. 

I don't have to for him, but the act of doing it makes me pretend to be happier.

“That’s nice… I guess?”

"Let’s go with that.  _ Nice _ . I've never been called  _ nice  _ before." I laugh.

“You’re nice and being around you makes everything better.” He says. 

_ Depression cured! _

_ Now I don’t want to kill myself! _

But if I said that, Josiah would cry, probably. Then I would feel like an ass.

"Thank you. Oh! I have something to show you!"

I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up the dog picture.

"These dogs are wrinkly." I say, holding the phone out to him. "They probably are blind like you, but because their skin goes over their eyes."

He takes it. “I don’t think that’s how that works. They’re wrinkly? I’m upset. I can’t tell.” He pouts.

I reach over and zoom more. "Now can you tell? If I had one I think  _ Raisin  _ would be a great name."

“I think so, too,” He holds it up closer to his face, “I notice wrinkles when I’m actively looking for them. I think.” 

"Well, trust me. They're there. And they're amazing. I hope you can pet one someday so you can tell."

He smiles a bit. “I trusted you, but now I have realized just how much you can lie to me about how things look.”

"Yeah. If I could get away with it."

“You can. Please don’t, though.” He laughs. 

"That would be mean. Um… Josiah, I only have one ear. It's genetic."

“Dumb-ass. I’ve touched your ears. There’s two; I counted.”

"You  _ counted _ ? That was a  **prosthetic** ear."

“Felt like real fucking skin to me.” 

"How many ears have you felt, Josiah? Not enough to form a valid opinion of prosthetic ears. Plus, maybe **it is** _real fucking skin_."

“Four people’s ears. Seems like enough to me.” 

"Nope. You can’t be an ear expert until you've touched at least seventeen.  **_Everyone_ ** _ knows that _ ." I finish my food.

“What? Have you?”

"Oh. That and more, I'm sure. I don't exactly count."

“Right… I guess you have.” 

The mood shifts slightly.

Goddamn it.

Leave it to me to fuck up a conversation about prosthetic ears with the boy I love…

"Sorry," I apologize, "I don't have a fake ear.  _ All natural, 100% real Damien _ ."

“I know.  _ All natural _ and perfect.” 

"Thanks. People tell me I should be an ear model all the time. They're like,  _ Damien, you have perfect ears and you should model them. _ ”

“Why would people say that?” 

"Because I have perfect ears, keep up."

“They’re not actually perfect. You poked holes in them.” He reaches out and starts playing with my ear.

"I was thinking about getting another piercing. Maybe lip ones. What do you think?"

“Oh, fuck no.” 

"What? Why not? I would look cool! And why would you care anyway?! You're  **blind** !"

“I would care if they were on your lips, of course. And, besides, things like piercings and tattoos are just ridiculous.”

"Um… I have three tattoos actually."

“ **I know** . That’s why I said it.”

"How do you know? And if I can’t get lip piercings, I'm getting eyebrow piercings. And a tattoo sleeve. Just to spite you."

“You’ve been shirtless around me,  _ what _ ,  **three times** ?” 

"Four. I guess you can probably see that something’s there. Just not what it is, right? How does that work?"

“I see details I look for. Same with the wrinkly dog.”

"So," I giggle, "You were looking for  _ details _ ?"

Hehe.

“I-I...well...not…” He stammers, blushing deeply.

I laugh. "Right. You  _ accidently _ looked for details. I got it. If I knew you could see if you tried, I wouldn't have to be perpetually worried you'll accidentally walk into traffic. Or a wall."

“I did walk into traffic once. I was...in elementary school. I was probably  _ seven… _ ?”

"Jesus Christ?! Did you  **die** ?"

“No…? The car just honked and made me panic.”

"That's terrifying. So you heard the car and just what? Went back to the sidewalk like nothing happened?" I ask, leaning on the table.

I'm exhausted.

“No. I started crying and the car stopped, and this lady came out and told me to watch where I was going and I cried more.”

"That's horrible. Where were your parents?"

“Gone. No one paid attention to me.”

I don't know what kind of parent would let their blind kid just wander around…

His dad fucking confuses the hell out of me. I can't decide if he is genuinely nice or if it’s an act...

He can't be that  _ nice _ if he hurt Josiah. I really won't know until I bring it up to Josiah tonight. All I know is, if that asshole hurts him again...

I don't know what I would do, but it will probably be illegal and involve a lot of bloodshed…and Josiah would be pissed.

"That's...really sad." I say, pulling myself from my thoughts.

And he wonders why I wait for him at stairs and shit.

“Yeah, I guess so…? But I’ve been walking to places on my own since I was, like, five. I’m good at it.” 

" **_Five_ ** ?! That's so little."

It’s scary.

“Or six. It’s okay because I had a knife.”

"... _ Had _ ?"

Again. The idea of arming him, also terrifying.

“I took it from the kitchen because I thought people were going to mug me.”

"That's...crazy."

“Not really. I didn’t ever have to use it… There were some close calls. I stopped worrying about it a long time ago, though.”

"You don't walk to school anymore and  **I’m** worrying about it!"

“Why?”

"Because I care about you!" I say for the millionth time, "In case you've forgotten."

“I was fine.”

"Yes. But there was a high chance you would not have been okay!" 

Jesus Christ. How can he not see how fucked that is?

“You know I walked to and from school… Why are you surprised?”

"I guess I never thought about it until now! That's  **horrifying** ."

Just one wrong move and...

**_Vroom_ ** .

Gone.

“Because of the traffic? Or you mean the knife…? Or...the mugging?”

" **_All of the above_ ** ." I take his hand.

“You worry too much about things. That’s far from the scariest stuff that’s happened.”

"What?! What's worse than that?"

I'm going to have a fucking heart attack.

“My dad literally almost killed me multiple times... Damien, you know this stuff.”

…I was right.

His dad is a bad man.

"Yeah… That is scary. I don’t like you staying with him again. At all."

“It’s only for a couple weeks and he hasn’t done anything. Don’t be paranoid.”

Am I paranoid? Definitely.

But not about  _ this _ .

I'm  **right** about  **_this_ ** .

" _ Paranoid _ ? He was put in jail for hurting you."

“A long time ago.”

It's still scary.

"Yeah. I guess so… Just be careful.  _ Please _ ." I say, taking a serious tone.

“I always am.”

**Bullshit** .

...

Josiah runs over to me and I manage a smile.

"Ready to go?" I ask him.

He nods and I climb on my bike. He gets on and puts his arms so tight around me. 

My stomach gets butterflies and I remember how good it was to kiss him.

He's so soft…

"Damien… A-Are we going or not? Come on… Why are you doing this again?" He questions, laughing at me.

I feel my face heat up. " **Listen** . I  _ like _ you, okay?"

Jesus. I need to calm myself.

I drive us back to my house, and the first thing I do when we get in, is ask, "When was the last time you ate?"

He shrugs and I take his hand, pulling him into the kitchen. 

Pierre and my parents are gone for the day. So, it's just us. 

“I’m not hungry yet.” He claims.

"You didn’t eat your lunch either.  **Please** ?"

It scares me sometimes how much he doesn't eat.

“Why do you make me do this?”

"Because I care about you.  **Nerd** ."

“...Okay. What do you have?”

"We have…" I open the fridge to look, "Some leftover pizza and…stuff you won’t eat."

“I’ll have one piece. Okay? Does that help?”

"Yes. Thank you."

I heat up the food and I grab some fruit roll ups from the cupboard that we now call  _ the  _ **_Josiah_ ** _ cupboard _ . It's basically just stocked with junk food, mostly candy. No one gets in it but him.

I haven't eaten today either, but I'm really not hungry yet… I'll get to it later. Right now, I need to worry about  **him** .

I pull him upstairs and begin questioning him as he eats his food.

"What's the situation? With you and your dad, I mean. How is it going? Has he hurt you at all?"

He just stares at his food and I have to remember to take it slow.

"Sorry, I'm just worried." I apologize, and he nods so I try it again, "How are you?"

"I’m… I-I’m okay. He doesn’t even r-really talk to me...at all…”

"Promise?" I ask, staring him down.

He nods again, staring at his food.

"No," I say desperately, "Look into my eyes and  **verbally** say the words  _ I promise _ ."

He looks up at me, a worried and confused look on his face. I’m being a little aggressive, but I need to know he's okay. 

" **Please** ." I say, using my turn to look at the ground.

"You...You’re s-scaring me. Stop.” 

I sigh and lean back on the couch.

"I'm sorry." I say, rubbing my tired eyes. I didn't sleep at all last night. 

I need to be more careful with him.

_ Stupid. Stupid.  _ **_Stupid_ ** _. _

"You’re not  _ stupid _ ." Josiah says.

Shit. "Was that out loud?"

He stares at me and I make sure to  **_MENTALLY_ ** curse myself this time.

I watch him as he finishes the food.

“Can we kiss?” He asks.

"Um. Yes please."

He leans over and kisses me gently.

Before I can think about it, instinct takes over and I pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

“ _ Damien _ …”

I love the way he says my name…

I slip my hand under his sweater and onto his warm back.

God. This is amazing…

“ **_Damien_ ** .” 

My other hand runs through his soft hair…

All of him is so  _ soft _ …

" **_Damien_ ** ,  **stop** ." He says forcefully enough that I quickly move away.

I sit up and instantly regret everything.

**I’m so fucking** **_stupid_**.

He pulls his knees to his chest and looks terrified, wide eyes cast downward.

I get up off the couch and begin pacing.

I fucked up.

Big time.

"God. I’m so sorry. I don’t know… I don't know what's going on with me right now."

I run my hand through my hair nervously.

Josiah stays silent.

I can't believe I…

I'm horrible.

"I'm sorry." I say again quietly, not able to look at him.

"It's okay…" He says distantly, as if he's lost somewhere, very far away.

**Shit** .

"Maybe we could set some rules for kissing...?" I suggest, "It seems that you freak out when I touch you...at all. When we kiss."

I’ll do anything to be able to keep kissing him.

“If you want to.” He shrugs. 

I sigh. "Alright.  _ Rule one _ . No touching when we're kissing. I mean, other than the  _ kissing _ … We have to touch some, but…" I trail off, realizing I'm a dumb-ass, "Do you even like kissing? Because if you don't, I can stop..."

But I really don’t want to.

"No, I-I like it! It’s just…" He stops, as if he’s nowhere near ready to talk about it.

"It’s alright." I say, trying to be  **calm.** I don't know what is wrong with me today.

I grab the two fruit roll ups. I hold it out.

"Apology fruit roll up?" I ask.

“Y-You don’t need t-to apologize...” He makes no move to take it. 

" **_Uh_ ** . Yeah, I do. I didn't  _ ask _ . That's really fucked up, and I'm sorry. I got carried away…  _ I don't know what's going on with me right now _ . I didn't mean to hurt you."

“I’m okay.” He says, still sounding distant.

"I don't believe you. You're spacing out…"

He said he only does that  _ when he's REALLY freaked out _ .

I just… What if one day he does that but never comes back…?

**Oh** **_. God_ ** .

My chest constricts and I have to take a deep breath.

_ Josiah first. _

"I… I wish I could take it back. Because I really am sorry, Josiah.'

“I know. That’s why I-I said  _ it’s okay _ .”

"Well, is there anything I can do to make it more  _ okay _ ?"

“Just...play some music, or something.” He mumbles.

"...Okay."

I grab my guitar and ask, "Can I sit down beside you?"

He nods.

I put my fingers on the strings and just let them decide what to play.

I let myself enjoy it and I calm down a lot. 

I need to play more. It's so calming.

Even with all this shit I just fucking caused…

**_It's calming_ ** .

I try to get everything out of my mind and just focus on the melody.

After a bit, I look over at Josiah.

I wonder if I should sing, or…? 

Nah. I'll just play. 

I doubt he likes that anyway.

I look over at him again after a couple minutes pass.

He's sitting normally again, and he looks a little more… _ coherent _ .

I quit playing.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as soon as I stop.

"I'm just checking on you. I'm  _ sorry _ ." I say for the millionth time today.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, Damien.” 

I don't believe him. At all.

But I won't push him.

Not after what I  _ just _ did.

"Did you want to try and study tonight…?" I ask him.

“No. I don’t want to do  **anything** .”

"Right."

I just sit quietly for a moment before Josiah cuts the silence.

“Are you going to keep playing?”

It makes me feel better...

"Only if you want me to." I shift the guitar a bit.

“Please.”

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

I start playing _ Cruel Summer _ , by, of course, my lord and savior, **_Taylor Swift_ ** .

I can't help but sing along. This one’s in my top five for sure.

Once the song is over, I sit my guitar down.

It’s a long shot, but...

"Can I… Can I hug you?" I ask hesitantly. After what happened a moment ago, I don't want to push anything.

“Yeah. Just don’t touch my skin.” 

I gently hug him, making sure not to do that.

"When do you have to leave again?" I ask, hoping it's later this time. I check my phone. "It’s only 6:17"

"I have to be home by 7:00."

I nod. We still have a little time, at least.

I hold him tightly in my arms and say nothing. Just enjoying the first feeling of relaxation I’ve had in a while.

My eyes feel heavy, but I force them to stay open.

I want to enjoy this for as long as I can.

I rest my head on his, and, before I know it, I'm out.

End


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Josiah’s P.O.V

-Friday, October 22nd-

...Did he just fall asleep?

That quickly? 

**Again** ?

I guess it’s starting to get late, but… He shouldn’t be sleeping yet. 

Every day, I’m more and more convinced that something is severely wrong with him. 

I don’t understand how he just falls asleep like that. As soon as he lays down, he passes out.

_ I don’t know _ . 

...I’ll ask him about it again later.

What can I do right now?

I definitely shouldn’t fall asleep, too. Even though I’m tired. 

What time is it, again? 

6:17, that’s what he told me. It’s probably closer to 6:30 by now. I have to leave in, like, twenty minutes. At most. 

I don’t want to think about what would happen if I was home even a minute after 7:00.

I sigh and shift to lay down, adjusting Damien as much as I can. He is out cold. I swear that nothing will wake him up. 

I’ll let him sleep. He must be so tired.

And I’ll...shut my eyes. Just for a while.

I’ll wake him up in about fifteen minutes so we can leave…

…

Next thing I know, I’m curled up in a little ball against Damien. 

I rub my eyes.

I think I fell asleep for a moment there…

It seems to be pitch black outside, and in here. That happened...awfully quick. I know it’s the middle of October, but still…

My phone is on the table by the couch. I pick it up to check just how late it is.

I can’t imagine what would happen if it’s too late...

9:27.

Fuck.

I drop my phone onto the floor.

My hands are shaking. 

I feel a scream slip from my throat, shaky hands coming up and running through my hair repeatedly. 

I squeeze my eyes shut.

**Fuck** .

What the hell am I supposed to do now?!

I feel a hand on my back, and my first instinct is to flinch away. 

“Josiah, it’s just me. It’s okay. What’s wrong?” Damien asks me.

I want to respond, but when I go to speak, I just whine. 

I shake my head. He’ll have to figure this one out on his own.

“You’re not talking again? That’s okay. I’ll wait. You’re okay.” He tries to assure me.

**No** .

Don’t fucking  **_wait_ ** .

“I...have...have to...go- Damien…” I stammer, forcing my eyes open to look at him. I can’t bring myself to look at his face.

“What do you- Oh…  _ OH _ . What time is it?” He grabs his phone, “Holy shit.”

I pull my hair, curling my hands into fists.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.” He stands.

“I-I can’t...move.” I tell him.

_ Please let me stay here forever.  _ **_Please_ ** _. _

**_I never want to go home_ ** _. _

“Can I carry you? Is it okay if I pick you up?” 

I force a nod, because I know I can’t stay here. Damien seems really afraid of his parents knowing about us...about  _ anyone  _ knowing about us. 

Except for the chef. The chef seems nice.

I don’t want Damien to get in trouble…

He picks me up. I wrap my arms around his neck. 

“I’m okay. I can carry you.” He promises.

I bury my face against his collarbone, tears soaking his shirt.

“S-So-Sorry…” 

He just places a hand on my back and rubs it, shushing me gently. He carries me out the door, and somehow manages to get me down the stairs. He places me in the passenger seat of his car, and I just  _ thank God _ he isn’t making me ride his motorcycle right now. 

I don’t think I could hold on.

...I don’t think I would want to hold on.

“I can't believe I fell asleep. I am so sorry. It's going to be okay." He says unconvincingly, as he sits in the driver's seat and starts the car up as fast as he can. He pushes the button to open the garage.

“S...S…” I shiver, “Seat belts.” I have to remind him. 

“Are you fucking serious right now?!” He snaps.

“Please!” I just yell back. 

He reaches over and buckles me in, before doing the same for himself.

Maybe it’s ridiculous, but it calms me down a bit. At least I know Damien is safe. 

He pulls out of the garage and onto the road. He probably has the way to my house memorized by now.

“I'm so fucking stupid." He mutters to himself.

I want to reply to him.

I wish I could speak, damn it...

I curl my knees tightly to my chest, rubbing tears out of my eyes. I try to stop crying, but I know there’s no way I can stop. 

The car ride feels long as hell. When we get there, Damien hands me my cell phone.

“Can I come in with you?” He asks, concerned.

Hell no. I know what he would do.

“No. N-No.” It would only make things worse. And he could get hurt. I don’t want him in my house ever again.

“Okay. If anything happens, you come right back out here and I will take you far away from here. If everything is okay, text me so I know,” He instructs, reaching over and opening the door next to me then stroking my hair back, “Do you understand?!”

I nod quickly.

He pecks my cheek before sitting back in his seat.

“Be careful.” He warns.

I nod again, and force myself to step out. I somehow reach the door, clutching the doorknob and turning it. 

I sigh, to keep myself from sobbing. 

I go inside and immediately hear my father’s voice.

“Who’s in the driveway?” He questions.

He is sitting on the couch, and I feel his eyes lock on me as soon as I come in.

“Damien.” I squeak.

“Is he waiting to know if you’re okay?” He knows exactly what’s going on.

I swallow hard. “Y-Yeah.” I hold my phone against my chest.

“Close the door. Text him and tell him everything is okay.”

I really,  **really** don’t want to…

But I do. I push the door shut behind myself and turn on my phone. 

Everyone is asleep its okay you can leave

I send. 

End


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Friday, October 22nd-

When I get the text from Josiah telling me everything is fine, I breathe a sigh of relief. For once, things are going our way.

About fucking time.

I can't believe I was so careless. I really need to watch myself. I've been slipping up lately.

I drive home, and as soon as I get home, I sneak over to the liquor cabinet and look at my options.

Wine. Vodka. Scotch.

I shrug to myself and grab a bottle of wine.

What the fuck, I could use a drink.

I take it upstairs and don't even bother with a glass. As if I'm not going to finish the bottle.

I sit in my bed and begin drinking.

Once I start drinking, I can’t turn off my mind.

All of my worries swirl around in my head and make it turn to mush.

What will I do about my parents? If they catch me and Josiah...or if they find out that I don’t want to be a part of the business…

What about Ethan and Hunter? And Logan?

How do I know that they’re not just planning something?

I take another drink of my wine.

It's so sweet.

I have so much to worry about.

And Josiah...

God. I always have to be so,  **_so_ ** careful with him.

So  **gentle** .

It’s  **not** in my nature to be gentle.

But the only alternative is driving him away.

I can’t be without him.  **I can’t** .

I take another drink, deciding to climb onto the roof to look at the stars.

I really like it out there. It’s so quiet, except for the occasional sounds of the city around me.

I stand up and stumble a little bit. I look at the wine bottle and see it’s already half empty. I shrug and open my window. The cold air feels so nice. I don't even need a jacket.

I climb out and onto my roof. I sit there, enjoying the silence and my drink. Hopefully, if I finish this off, I can actually sleep for a second.

Hopefully…

…

-Monday, October 25th-

I try to contact Josiah all weekend, but I can’t get a hold of him.

I keep thinking about just showing up at his house, but he doesn’t want his dad knowing about us…

I can’t do that to him.

If he doesn’t show up to school, then I’m allowed to worry.

He wouldn’t skip unless he was really messed up…or dead.

I can’t think like that.

I’ve been having panic attacks about this whole thing since Friday night.

When Monday rolls around, I find myself out laying on the roof again, watching the sun rise.

I’m so tired, but as soon as I try to lay down and sleep, I get attacked by torrents of thoughts and worries and anything else in between.

I sigh, contemplating skipping, but if I can just talk to Josiah…

I go inside and brush my teeth, not having the energy to shower. I check the time and see that it’s almost time to go.

I put my hands on the counter and look up at myself in the mirror.

I look like absolute shit. I have some intense dark circles under my eyes and my hands won't quit shaking. I sigh and run a hand through my messy hair.

I go into my room and change my clothes. I slip a grey sweatshirt on and slip the hood up. I toss my leather jacket over top and then I put my sunglasses on and my earbuds in. Hopefully if I turn the music up loud enough, it can distract me.

I ride to school and make it into and through my first few classes, keeping an eye out for Josiah in the halls.

I don't see him, but sometimes, I can miss him. 

He’s small.

I try to keep an eye out, but as soon as I get to lunch, fear spikes through me.

He’s nowhere to be seen. He always sits at the same table.

Every single day.

I don't think he's ever been late or skipped. I don’t think he could. He has  **rules** about that sort of thing...

Shit. I need to go find him.  **Now** .

He could be here. I just need to make sure.

I have to know that he’s okay.

I feel my chest constrict and it's hard to breathe.

Oh my God. Am I having a fucking panic attack right in the middle of the hallway?! 

I lean against someone’s locker and try to calm down, figure out a plan.

I need to get out of here.

I need to go calm down somewhere more private, then go find Josiah.

I try to head outside, or something, but I can’t fucking move.

My breathing gets even heavier and I feel like I’m going to pass out.

I get my legs to move a little but my vision is already swimming.

I can't do this today. I can't.

I can't...

_ I can't... _

__ **_I can't…_ **

I need to run. I need to find Josiah.

I can't think straight.

I sprint at top speed in the opposite direction, to the class I know he has next.

Maybe he’s just going in early or something to do homework…

Yeah. That’s it.

He'll be there. 

He has to be here…

If not, then I don't know where he is.

And if I don't know where he is, there a fucking high chance that he's  **dead** .

I sprint at full speed, still hardly breathing and my vision swims again. I stumble and quickly open the door to history class.

It’s  _ empty _ .

He's not here.

I check again just to be sure and I shoot him a quick text.

Not that he will answer.

Are you at school?

I slip my phone into my pocket before shutting the classroom door.

My chest constricts, and I get a sharp pain at the base of my skull…and in my temples.

It’s like my brain is on fucking  _ fire _ .

That’s new.

Good. Maybe I’m  **dying** .

My vision swims and I duck into the empty classroom I was just looking in.

There won’t be a class here for half an hour.

I’ll be calmed down enough by then to find him.

I go in and lean against the wall, slowly sliding down onto the floor.

I need to breathe…

_ In and out. _

Not that fucking hard. I’ve been doing it my whole life, you would think I wouldn't have to remind myself.

Once I can breathe a little bit, I try and get up, but I fall back down to my knees.

I can't do this anymore.

I can hardly breathe.

I try and breathe as I check my phone.

Maybe he’s fine.

Maybe he’s just sleeping…

Or something.

**_Sure_ ** .

I look at my messages.

No response.

This sends me into a panic again.

My hands won’t stop shaking so much that it's almost impossible to press the buttons on my phone.

They've been shaking all day and won't fucking  **stop** .

I call his phone, but it goes to voicemail.

"Call me back,  **_please_ ** . As soon as you get this."

I say quickly then stuff my phone in my pocket.

Maybe he just… Overslept.

**As if** . 

I hope to God this is the very first time he's skipped on his own terms.

I force myself up, this time being more successful and not falling on my face.

I'm really unsteady, but I should be able to get to his house.

I make it out to my motorcycle, and as soon as I’m on, I speed out of there, driving at speeds that are very much not safe.

I park across the street from his house and try to call him again and again.

End


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Monday, October 25th-

I curl up tight in the corner, messing with my hair endlessly, twirling the ends and repeatedly pushing it out of my face.

I deserve this.

What punishment is better for staying out late than being locked up?

...Why is my biggest concern the fact that I’m missing school? 

I also worry about Damien. I hope he’s okay.

I hope he isn’t too worried about me. 

I trace my fingers over the bruises on my collarbone.

I wish people wouldn’t hurt other people.

My heart skips what feels like at least six beats when someone bangs on the other side of the door.

_ Oh, God, please no more… _

I yelp and start pulling on my hair.

**_No more_ ** …

The door unlocks after some obnoxious clinking, and it opens.

“ _ No more _ …” I cry, eyes squeezed shut. 

It has to be my dad. Or maybe my aunt. No one else can open the door.

Aside from Alexa, but that would be weird. 

I tug on my hair. 

" _ Josiah?! _ " A man’s voice calls, sounding scared out of his mind.

_ Fuck, no,  _ **_please_ ** _ … _

_ I can’t do this again... _

Wait-...

... **_Damien_ ** ?!

" **_Josiah_ ** ?!" He calls out again.

I open my eyes and try to stare. 

I think it's Damien?

I burst into tears immediately. "D-Damien? Is it y-you...really?" I ask shakily as he comes closer.

"Oh my God. What the fuck did he do to you?"

I take in a shuddering breath, squinting, trying to focus on his face, but I just see a blur. As usual.

" _ Damien _ ..." I mumble, reaching out for him a bit.

"Where are your glasses?" He asks.

"I don't… I-I have no idea. He t-took them..." I tell him.

I manage to curl my fingers into the front of his sweatshirt.

He’s very close…!?

"Jesus Christ, Josiah. What the hell are we going to do?"

I just pull on him a bit, but he doesn’t react.

He is wrapped up in searching me for bruises, which I'm pretty sure I'm covered head to toe with. Or, at least, it feels like it. 

"How badly are you hurt?" He questions.

I release him and curl my hands into fists, pressing them to my chest. "Ow... D-Damien..." I whine.

"Everything's going to be okay." He says soothingly.

That doesn’t help anymore.

Not after  **_this_ ** . 

"It isn't okay. Ow... It f-f...ucking...hurts..." I force out.

"What happened?" He asks me gently.

"I got punished..." I feel my skin burning.

I don't want to tell him. He shouldn't have to know. "I-I can't tell you...you'll get...up-upset."

"Nothing you could say right now would make me love you any less." He says.

I can’t tell him...

"The b-boundaries...our rules... H-He broke them. He broke the rules." I say anyway, not wanting to be too explicit.

"What rules?" He urges. 

I didn’t make myself clear enough...

I shake my head and begin pulling my hair again. 

He doesn't want to know. He thinks he wants to know, but I'm sure he doesn't.

It’ll just make him upset. It serves no other purpose than to freak him out, and it’ll freak me out, too. 

"Josiah,  **_what rules_ ** ?!" He pushes, more aggressive.

...But I don’t think he’s going to give it up that easily.

I wince.

" _ The k-kissing r-rules _ ... He... My dad...b-broke them." I tug harder on my hair, squeezing my eyes shut so tight.

My heart pounds in my chest as I think back to it, a sob escaping me.

" _ Oh my God _ ..." He says quietly. 

I’m in so much trouble. With him and with my father, and everyone else…

Now he knows. He knows what I am.

What I’ve done.

He continues, “We should have left when you said, I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t think…”

That wouldn’t fix anything, because…it’s never been an option. He was right.  _ We  _ **_can’t_ ** .

I can’t ever leave.

Even if I did, what would be the point? I can’t escape it. 

I can’t escape who I am, or who I’m meant to be. What I’m never meant to escape...

"H-He wouldn't s-stop... He b-broke the rules! H-He was bad...again... I don't like i-it, Damien." I try.

I don’t. **I hate it** .

But he didn’t break the rules. They aren’t his rules, they’re Damien’s.

...I like it with Damien.

I know what I am because of that.

"I can't... I don't.... _ Josiah _ , quit pulling your hair..." Damien says, his voice so quiet.

As soon as I let go of my hair, I start fidgeting with the ends of my sleeves, so glad that I could at least get my clothes back on. I can feel Damien's eyes on me.

"P-Please stop him..."

"Why didn't you call me? Wh...Where did your phone go?" He asks, his voice cracking, as if he's been crying.

"Don't cry! D-Don't be upset! I...I d-didn't want you here...'cause, I knew...I knew y-you would be upset." I start to regain my ability to speak. 

Thank God. I hate it when I get all panicky like this. It hurts my brain…

"A-And I didn't want to tell you, and...now y-you're c-crying..." I add.   
I knew he would make this a bigger deal than it needs to be. 

"I'm not  _ upset with  _ **_you_ ** ." He continues crying. 

"Why are you s-sad...?" I tilt my head at him. 

I thought he would be mad at me. After all, he told me to call him if anything happened, but I didn't. It was such a simple rule and I don't know why I'm too dumb to follow it.

Just like all of my other rules.

"Because I don't...I don't like seeing you in pain. I don’t want you to hurt."

"Are you angry? I-I was bad... I-I didn't c-c-call you." I remind him. 

Why am I giving him reasons to be mad? Why can't I just let him not be mad at me?! 

I'm starting to wonder if I'm breaking the rules with him so he will get angry. Am I testing him? Am I trying to see if he'll hit me, or break the rules about kissing and sex?

What is wrong with me?!

Do I  _ want  _ him to do it?!

"It's not your fault. I'm not mad becau...because it's not your fault."

"Y...You keep s-saying that it isn't...but… It  **is** my fault. It's m-my f-fault that I-I got in trouble with my f-father, it's my fault t-that I c-couldn't s...stop him, it's m-my fault I didn't c-call you..." I ramble.

"No, Josiah.  **No.** It's  _ not your fault. _ It's his fault. I dont care if you think you were bad, or you  _ know _ you were bad. No one should do this to anyone. No one should break the rules."

"What m-makes the k-k-kissing rule any more b-bad to break than the  _ c-call Damien _ rule?" I question, trying to figure out his thought process here.

Why are some rules somehow more important than other rules? I've been raised on; _ You break a rule, you get punished. _

It’s all the same.

"And...he's my dad... H-He doesn't have any rule-rules..."

"Well, he should." He says, his crying seeming to slow down slightly.

I want him to stop crying. I reach my hand out to wipe his face, carefully finding his jaw and placing my hand against him. I wipe his cheek with my thumb, feeling the tears.

"Damien, please don't c-cry..." I beg.

He seems horrified and confused. I don't know why. He knows that my father has always hurt me.

Why is this any different? Why does this shock him?

"I'm so sorry." He says softly. It sounds like he's having trouble catching his breath.

"Don't be sorry... You didn't do anything," 

He reaches his hand out to me, and I pull away and scurry back to the wall, keeping my distance.

Yeah... My brain still thinks he'll hurt me. I don't know why. I trust him, but…

I've found lately that most things scare me.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He promises.

I shake my head. " **_No more_ ** ." I say again, the same thing I was repeating over and over again earlier.

It used to work when I was little. If I said it enough. 

My father would start crying and I would be filled with guilt, but I wouldn’t be as scared or in as much pain. 

I can always still feel that pain. And blood on my thighs.

My fingers fidget with each other, eyes down-casting to the floor beside me. I couldn't bring myself to keep looking at him, even though I can’t see him anyway.

I feel sick to my stomach.

Everything hurts. I want my glasses, and I want to be at Damien's house, cuddling up to him and just talking about whatever comes to mind.

"...Do I have to s...stay here?" I ask.

I know I do.

Whether he says I do or not.

I’ll always come back to  **_this_ ** . 

" **No** ," He says firmly, "You're going to stay with me. My parents can deal with it until we find you somewhere else to go."

"What if they f-find out about us...? D-Don't they have some s-sort of rule, or s-something, about it? Will they hurt y-you?" I question, getting that urge to pull at my hair again, "If they'll h-hurt you, I-I don't want to risk it."

"No. They don't have as bad of punishments as what you’re thinking. It wouldn’t matter, even if they did. You can stay in a different room. It will be okay. I'll handle it. You are  **not** staying here."

"What about s-school? If I-I go...my father would get me, and t-take me home afterwards." 

Of course that's where my mind goes.  **_School_ ** . Because I can be convinced to run away from home and never come back, but I can't possibly miss school.

"Fuck school. I'll just not leave your side.  _ I'll protect you _ ." He chokes out.

It almost sounds better for me to just stay here. Not for me, but for him.

"What if I-I really, really promise that I w-will leave the house and c-call you, if anything happens?" I suggest.

"Please just come with me..." I hear him begin to cry again, "Please."

No...

" _ Okay _ ...but I d-don't know where m-my glasses are." I say, shifting and looking around, mainly to add to the effect…

My eyes stop on the bedroom door. "They're p-probably in there. That's where w-we were earlier..." I guess.

He hesitates, then says, "I'll go find them."

I don't want to, but I let him leave. I watch him with the best of my ability as he goes into the bedroom to look.

A moment later, I feel my heart start to race for no apparent reason. I start panicking. 

**Why** ? 

"Damien!?" I call for him.

"I found them!" He says, coming out of the room and sitting them on my face with shaky hands.

“Are you o...okay? You s-seem stressed.” I tell him.

Well… Of course he is.

But  **still** .

I don’t get why all of this is a big deal to him.

It’s not  **_his_ ** life.

It doesn’t hurt  **_him_ ** .

He looks at the bruises on my neck, which go down and disappear under my sweater collar. 

"Let's grab your stuff and go."

"My sweaters?" I ask hopefully, pointing to the chest that is beside the couch.

He nods. "Of course."

I bring my hands to my head, rubbing my temples. My head aches like hell.

Right now, I want out of here. But I know that, tomorrow, I'll be upset because I'm not at home.

Why do I miss this place when I'm not here? 

"...Did you bring the car?" I ask hopefully.

“No, sorry…”

I pout up at him.

Fuck…

I hate that. 

"I came right from school, I didn't have time to..." He stops.

"...and you're sure I can't s-stay here?" I drag myself off the floor, standing. 

Have I mentioned that  _ everything hurts _ ?

"I don't think you should." He says, grabbing my school backpack and stuffing my sweaters into it.

Fine... I guess I'll ride the motorcycle. 

But this is the last time...

End


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Monday, October 25th-

After I take Josiah home, I get him something to eat. Then he fell asleep on my couch with a fluffy blanket.

I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he slept the rest of the day.

I still can't wrap my head around… Everything that happened today.

If I think about it, it  _ hurts _ , and if I don't think about it, I'm worrying about everything else that's falling apart around me. Which is every fucking thing. 

So, as soon as he passes out, I grab some bourbon from the cabinet and I take it upstairs.

I sit on my bed and just watch him as he's sleeping.    
Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t get to sleep.

I take a drink and stare at my wall, trying desperately to figure out what to do.

I don't know how, but Josiah cannot go home.

**I can't do that.**

I feel tears form in my eyes and I hold them back.

I can't do this. 

It’s  **too** much.

Everything is too much.

I take another drink, hoping it will calm me down, but, if anything, it makes me worry more.

What will we do tomorrow? What do I do when Josiah finds out I drink  _ literally every day _ ?

What do I do when I have to tell my parents Josiah is living here now? They can't know we're together...or we'll both be out on the curb...or worse.

It feels like someone is sitting on my chest.

I can't breathe. I… I-

The pain in my head comes back, and I grab both sides of my head, squeezing tightly.

I need to quit thinking.

I need a distraction.

I run my hands through my hair and grab my guitar. 

I take the guitar and alcohol and go into the bathroom, locking the door.

I sit on the side of the tub and I play quietly so he doesn’t wake up.

He needs his rest.

He shouldn’t have to worry about this,  **and** me, too.

I can't wrap my mind around today.

My fingers find the strings desperately and no matter what, every song I play is sounding as scared as I feel. I continue playing, each song getting faster and faster, trying to relax.

It doesn't work.

I sit the guitar down. 

Nothing is working anymore.

I feel a sob escape my throat, and I quickly put a hand over my mouth to quiet myself.

I put my earbuds in and blast music at full volume.

_ My last resort _ .

I hold the bottle in my hands and stare at it.

I then stay sitting there until I’ve finished the entire thing. Once I'm done, I sit the bottle on my counter and stumble to the bed..

Please, dear God,  _ just let me sleep _ .

**_Please_ ** .

I sit down beside him on the couch, keeping my distance.

I stare at his sleeping face and I ponder what the fuck I'm supposed to do.

I’m a fucking senior in high school. This isn't fair.

I shouldn't have to deal with all of this.

Maybe if I wasn't here…

I stop myself.

Is that what it’s coming to?

All jokes aside...

If I wasn't  **here** ...

At least if I was dead, maybe I could finally get some peace.

I can't leave Josiah like that. 

He needs me.

But, God... I wish I could just be  **at peace.**

I don't know what to do, and everyone is relying on me, and I don't know what to do.

_ I don't know what to do… _

…

-Tuesday, October 26th-

I wake up to my alarm.

God. I hate that thing.

I groan and turn it off, rubbing my eyes and looking over at Josiah, who’s yawning beside me.

I can’t believe I actually slept some...

“Good morning…” He mumbles.

His sleepy face is so cute…

I smile. “Morning.” I say, grabbing his glasses and gently sliding them on.

Is he really just going to stay here?

Does this count as  _ kidnapping _ ?

I sigh and get up, “Do you want a Pop-Tart or anything?”

He needs to eat, but I can only do so much.

“Not really…” He replies.

I won’t push him today.

Not after... **that** .

“Right. I’m going to go get ready to go, then make some coffee. Tell me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

He’s...quiet. But at least he’s here.

If he was just spaced out, I wouldn’t know what the fuck to do.

I quickly get ready, and then make myself some coffee as promised, bringing the cup up to my room.

He’s changed into the huge sweatshirt I let him borrow the other night…

And by  _ borrow _ , I mean the one I assumed I would never get back.

And it looks like I’m right.

“Nice sweatshirt,” I smile, grabbing my bookbag, “It fits you well.”

“No, it doesn’t. But I like it anyway.”

“I was joking. It’s very comfortable. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yes. Let’s go, then.”

God, I hate this.

Everything feels... **off** .

And I don’t know how to fix this, or if I can.

I guess I’ll just be here for him.

That’s about all I can do at this point.

That, and keep his dad the fuck away from him.

…

When we get to school, I ask, “Can I hold your hand? And walk you to your first class?”

I haven’t tried to touch him.

I can’t tell where he stands right now.

“Of course. Nothing is  _ different _ .”

_ Nothing’s different?! _

That’s fucked up.

And you know it’s fucked up if I think it’s fucked up.

All I do is think about killing myself 87% of the time.

The rest of the time I’m thinking about him.

Or drinking.

Or sex.

Mostly him, though.

“I was just checking.” I say as we get out of the car.

I take his hand. Thankfully, mine stopped shaking yesterday.

We walk silently to his class, just enjoying the touch.

When we get to his door, I say, “I love you. I’ll see you at lunch?”

Who cares if people hear us?

It’s not like word will get out to my parents. Hopefully.

And if anyone complains, I’ll beat the shit out of them.

“I love you, too. Don’t make things weird, okay? We’re the same. **_Nothing changed_ ** .”

“I’ll try not to. I’m sorry. I’m just worried... _ what a surprise _ , right?” I attempt to joke.

“ **Don’t** **_worry_ ** .”

“No can do,  **nerd** . It’s just my nature. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, talk to you later. Bye.”

I make sure he gets into class okay, before heading over to mine.

He doesn’t seem that bothered by it.

And as scary as that is, at least we can try to keep things normal between us.

…

I join him at what I now think of as our lunch table.

“Josiah, I have a  **very** important question for you.” I say, sitting his lunch in front of him.

He just stares at it a moment, before responding, “Okay. Ask away.”

“What is your opinion on  **little** dogs?” I sit beside him and unpack both his and my lunches.

I put the sandwich in his hand and he just looks at it.

“My opinion is that they’re not as good as big dogs. I don’t know. Cuddling wouldn’t be as fun.”

“Okay, but,” I start eating my food, “Have you ever  _ seen _ a  **Corgi** ? I use the word  **_seen_ ** lightly, of course.”

“No…?”

I pull it up on my phone and put it in the hand that doesn’t have the sandwich. “Observe.”

“It’s a dog. Still  _ good _ .”

“But they look like little  _ toasted marshmallows _ ! And I like the idea of having a dog I can just carry around. It could be fun.” I take the phone back.

“The idea of you carrying around a fluffy animal is  **_weird_ ** .” 

“Why’s that? I love animals. We should get a guinea pig, too.”

“Because you’re a big, tough, scary dude. It’s weird enough that you walk around with me. I can’t even imagine you with something as cute as a puppy, or a guinea pig.” 

“Well, it’s going to happen, so you better prepare yourself. I’m talking  **floor to ceiling** dogs. Stacks of dogs everywhere.”

“Okay…?”

“The literal definition of  _ dog pile _ . But our house.”

He slowly takes a bite of the sandwich, as if not even consciously doing it.

My plan worked…!

“That isn’t safe for the dogs.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll just settle for a dog, a cat, and a Josiah. All  _ cute _ ,  _ cuddly _ things.”

“Three dogs. That’s probably a good idea. A big one, a medium one, and a little tiny one.” 

“Smart, and then we can stack them.”

“ _ No _ .”

“The little one could ride the big one.”

“That’s very dangerous. They could get hurt. Don’t be mean to animals, Damien.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying, if the little one wants to ride the big one,  **I won't stop it** .”

“They’re dogs. They don’t know what they want, and even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to communicate it with you.” 

“But, they could  _ communicate it  _ with **each other** .  **_Dog telepathy_ ** . Look it up.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is. I just made it a thing,” I sigh, watching him eat his food, “Okay, if they can’t ride each other like little cowboys, then can they at least wear sweaters?”

“Animals tend to not like clothes. So, probably not.” 

“If they like the clothes, can they wear them?”

“Sure.”

“Me and the little dog could get matching sweaters.”

“...You realize everyone here is terrified of you, right? Wow.”

“What do you mean  **wow** ?”

“You keep doing and saying cute or funny things to make me think you’re cute and to distract me from whatever, but you’re supposed to be a scary person. I’ve been afraid of you for  **two years** .” 

“Can’t I be scary to other people and not to you? Also…  _ Really _ ? I didn't know you existed until this year.”

“Yeah. All of us nerds love gossiping about bullies. Absolutely.”

“Really?” I say, interested, “About what? Like, what did you hear about me?”

“People think you’re really ruthless. And they’re confused as to why you don’t beat up any girls. Someone said it’s because you like girls too much.”

“This is true. I like girls a lot.”

“Things would be a lot easier if you didn’t.”

“For who?”

“For me.”

“Why is that? I mean I _like_ girls, but I **_love_** **_you_**.” I say, sitting down my food.

“I don’t like it. I’m not sure why, it’s just...being with a girl is a better option for you.”

“I guess. But It’s not the  **right** option. Would you rather me be honest about liking other guys, too? I figured that would be worse.”

“It’s better than liking girls, but… I don’t like that, either.”

“It doesn’t matter. Neither of those things do. I like you the most. That’s all that matters to me, and it should be all that matters to you.”

“I’m sorry. I wish it was. I want you to do whatever is best for you.”

“You’re not...like, mad at me about it, are you?”

“No. I’m scared.”

“Hey,” I say, taking his hand, “You have nothing to be worried about... I love you so much, there is no way in hell I could leave you. Not for a girl or boy or anyone else, okay? And you’re  _ what’s best for me. _ Whether you believe me or not.”

“Okay… I guess.”

“No. Just  _ okay _ . No  **_guessing_ ** .”

“I had to say  _ I guess _ because I agree with you because it makes sense, but also I still don’t like it because I’m still scared.” 

“I wish I could make it so you weren’t scared.” I look down into his bright blue eyes.

“I know.”

“...Maybe someday I can. But, for now, all I can do is make you look at dogs and also tutor me.”

“We’re still doing tutoring? Oh, cool.” 

“I’m still a  _ dumb-ass. _ **So** **_yes_ ** .” I smile.

“Right. On Wednesdays and Fridays…? Damien… Hey, what’s your plan for  _ family time _ ? Am I just supposed to hide alone and do nothing…?”

“Um…yes. Well, you can do stuff, you just have to stay upstairs. Just until I find a way to tell them you’re staying here. I’m planning on telling them this weekend when we’re…”

Wait.  **Shit** .

“What about Puerto Rico?” I say.

“Uh, I don’t know. I wish you would…or  _ could  _ just leave me at my house.”

“No. Not an option. I’ll think of something. But as for tonight, just stay upstairs. Look at dogs on your phone or do homework or something, until I’m done.”

“Where will you be? And do I have to be silent?”

“Don’t throw any parties, but you’ll be fine. You don’t have to be silent. It’s a huge house, Josiah.”

“Okay. But you will be in the house?”

“Yeah, with dad in the basement.”

“Alright. Good. Is Pierre going to bother me? Can you tell him to leave me alone?”

... _ Pierre _ ! I forgot about him.

“I will. But you can just stay in the house, and he can just check on you every now and then this weekend.”

“I don’t want to be checked on, though.”

“Too bad. I’m not leaving you completely alone. It’s not safe.”

“I would be okay. I would just stay in one of the guest rooms, or your room.”

“It will make me worry less if he pops in every now and then and makes you something to eat, at least. I’ll tell him to text you before he comes over though, so he doesn’t scare you.”

I stare down at our hands.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“You don’t have to. I just need to know someone is there if you need them. I’ll be really fucking far away.”

“I know. But if I’m scared, he can’t stop that.”

“No. And I really wish that I could stay, but It’s unavoidable. It will just be three days. That’s it. And you can still text me, I just don’t know how often I’ll be able to respond. It’s going to be a busy weekend. But I’m going to miss you. So much.”

“Can we talk before bedtime at least?”

“Well, there’s a two hour time difference, but hopefully we can.”

“Okay… That’s alright.”

I’m just glad he’s going to stay at my house, and not try to go be with his dad or something.

As long as I can get through this weekend, I’ll be okay.

**Hopefully** .

End


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Wednesday, October 27th-

I didn’t expect staying at Damien’s house to be as hard as it is. 

I want to go home, and to some extent, I have convinced myself that I will. But I don’t think Damien will let that happen.

All the times I’ve joked about him keeping me forever, and now this…

It’s strange to be sleeping in a bed, and to know that Damien is literally next door, and that I can do whatever I want as long as no one notices I’m here…

His parents don’t come in here at all. So that’s easy.

And then there’s the butler guy… Pierre.

Damien expects me to be used to him somehow. 

I’m not. 

I do not like that Pierre tries to talk to me, and how he tries to be nice and…

Sometimes, I like it. 

I just hate that I like it.

I think that having Damien, and having Pierre… It’s kind of like having family? I don’t know, but that’s what it feels like.

At school, I forgot multiple times that I don’t need to worry about going home. My mind kept going back to  _ how am I going to explain all of this to my father and Aunt Dahlia _ …?

But I don’t have to.

Because I’m not going home...probably.

I think we need to talk about that. 

I don’t get why, all the sudden, when my dad came back and Damien realized that things happen, everything became different. Suddenly, it was dangerous to live at home…

Or something?

We’ll need to talk about that, too.

I don’t know when, but I’ll bring all of it up to him. Probably whenever he doesn’t seem stressed.

Which...isn’t often.

And probably isn’t right now.

I don’t know. It’s hard to not be able to read people’s expressions…

So, during lunch, I bring nothing up. Not one thing on my list is mentioned.

We talk about dogs.

He showed me a  _ golden retriever _ , repeatedly telling me about how fluffy they are. 

I determined that we should get a golden retriever puppy once we move out. 

He seemed to like that idea.

But I don’t think it will happen.

Sometimes, he’s concerned about money. Dogs are expensive. 

We’ll probably have either a dog or a cat. Not both. 

At least, not until we’re rich and have a big house. 

Plenty of room for a big dog.

Maybe that’s what we need to talk about. 

So, I choose to bring that up instead as soon as he starts his homework.

“Hey. Damien, are we going to have enough space and money for a cat  **and** a dog?” I ask.

“Probably not right away, but we will someday. Once we’re out of school.”

“That’s cool. What do you think you’ll major in once you go to college?”

“I dunno, maybe like business shit. Or maybe I’ll be an astronaut.”

_ Unlikely _ .

“Stocks?” I suggest.

“Fuck no.”

“Oh, okay. Fair enough.” I shrug.

He was very adamant about that one. 

“What if you didn’t go to college and instead you join a travelling rock band? So we can go a lot of places.”

“Also a firm fuck no. I won’t  **ever** play in front of people.”

“You play in front of me. And you’re really good and it makes me very happy. So why not?”

“I’m not good enough, first off, and secondly, you don’t count. I could do anything with you.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would I be different than any other person? And you’re very good.”

“Have you ever heard like literally anyone else? My only goal with music is to be able to play every Taylor Swift song. It’s not a viable career option. Plus, being in a band is  _ cringey as hell. _ Not to mention the fact that it doesn’t pay enough to keep us alive, I’m sure.”

I look down at the shirt I’m wearing. The one I stole from him last night and he hasn’t even said anything about.

“Bullshit. You should join…” I read the name carefully, “ _ My Chemical Romance _ .”

He sighs, “Way too late for that, bud. Rest in peace.” He makes a kissing noise and puts a hand in the air.

I flinch a bit.

The fuck…?

I look up at his hand. “Okay…? Then join some other band. Just kill off their guitarist and take their spot.”

“I do not want to be in a band, but if I did, that would be my plan of attack.”

“Sounds good,” I say, “Hey, how are you doing right now? Rough day?” I ask him.

He laughs. “As always. Why?”

“Oh. Nevermind.” I shrug.

“No, what’s up? I’m okay. Better than yesterday.”

I sigh, “Am I ever going home…?”

“Do you not want to stay with me?” He asks, putting his pencil down and looking over at me.

“I want to. I just...also want to go home. And don’t understand why I can’t.”

“They were  **hurting** you, Josiah. Way worse than they were before. I have to know you’re safe.”

“No, first of all,  **_nothing changed_ ** . We’ve been over this. Why did you suddenly decide that it’s worse…? Did something cross the line into  _ you’re staying with me _ territory?” 

“The...rule your dad broke. The day that I found you. That was way past the line. And any sort of physical  **abuse,** like throwing stuff at you, or hitting you. That’s past the line. Josiah, when I found you…” He cuts himself off with a shaky breath before continuing, “...You looked so  **scared** .”

“Damien… I was scared, but I’m always scared. Dad always has done stuff, and I’m used to it. I would be okay there.”

“No. Because one day he would go too far and you would be dead. And that’s my  **worst fear** . You being dead. Even just saying it makes me start to panic… You mean so much to me, and I can’t let  **anyone** take you away.”

“Okay… But he wouldn’t kill me. I was fine, especially if that’s your fear.”

“I don’t believe you. It wasn’t just a  **fear** , It was happening.”

Of course he doesn’t.

“So, what I’m hearing is...I’m never going back…?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I… I can’t stop you if you want to. But I really,  **really** think you should stay here. With me. Where you have a bed and food, and it’s warm and  _ safe _ .”

“I want to...but I’m not going to. Because I don’t feel as scared here.”

I have to be scared, and hurt. Always.

“You have to then. I take it back.”

“Alright. You know, I’ve lived this long. You don’t need to be afraid of anyone  _ taking me away _ .” 

“I don’t know how you’ve lived this long. It’s nothing short of a motherfucking miracle. If your dad doesn’t kill you, you’ll walk into traffic, or accidentally, I don’t know,  _ walk off a cliff _ . I’ve never had anything like you before, and I can’t lose you.””

“How would I manage to walk off a cliff...?”

“If anyone could figure it out, it would be you.”

“Not unless I wanted to.” I point out.

“Don’t do that either.”

That’s fair.

“Well, do you believe in fate? Everything happens for a reason?” I ask.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then you should assume that whatever has happened, is happening, and will happen is for the best. And everything is the way it’s supposed to be.” 

“ _You_ ** _dying_** is, in no possible scenario, _for the best_. I think we make our own fate. That maybe if I’m nice or something, nice shit will happen back. And I’m scared because _I_ _haven’t been very nice_.”

“You shouldn’t be scared of that. I think I’m your punishment for it.” 

“Or  _ you’re my redemption _ .”

“ **Maybe** . But you should be careful about that. If you’re making your own fate here, then… You might not end up the way you want to.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re going to assume I’m going to be good for you, some things may go wrong. Because, it’s like… I might be your punishment. For being a bad person.  _ Karma _ .” I explain.

“Nah. Not possible. You’re too cute to be my punishment. Are we done? I have five more questions.”

“Multitask. Have you ever thought about the fact that you like me so much, but you can’t touch me? Isn’t that  **_bad_ ** ?” 

“I’ve thought about it, like,  **everyday** , but no. Given your situation, it was really fucking horrible for me to ever push  **anything** on you.”

“That’s not true. Your problem is you  **_stopped_ ** , and now you’ve put yourself into this situation where you can’t get what you want. And you’ve convinced yourself that it’s somehow not a punishment, or that it isn’t bad. When you can’t have things that you want.”

“This has gotten way too philosophical for me. Listen here. Are you listening?”

“Barely.”

“Well,  **listen** .”

“Okay. Pretend I am.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you if you’re not listening, because why bother? At that point, I can talk to a brick wall.”

“I’ve been told it’s pretty much the same thing. So either works.” I shrug. 

He sits his head on the table, an action I’m very used to at this point. “Josiah. You won’t be convinced no matter what I say, so why bother? You’re not my punishment. So get over it and move on. I’m not  _ leaving you _ or  _ hurting you _ or  _ hitting you _ or anything in between. No matter what your brain says or thinks I should do, I won’t.”

I shift, bringing my knees up to my chest. “Okay. What’s my purpose, then? In the grand scheme of your life. Because I know I didn’t do anything to deserve you. Why am I here?”

“To give me hugs and make me smile. Two things you happen to be very good at.”

“I…” I rub my head, “That works, I guess…? I don’t know. I wish I believed that. Do you seriously think that…?”

“Yep. That’s all I think about. As you know, I am a dumb-ass, who does not give any thought into anything. So if that’s what’s on my mind, it must be pretty damn important.”

I crack a smile at him. “You’re insane.” I inform him.

He smiles back. “So I’ve been told.”

A moment of silence passes before he starts focusing on his schoolwork again.

I’m glad he’s at least trying to pay attention to it.

I’m not a very good tutor. Obviously.

What feels like an hour goes by, before he hands the paper to me.

The answers are...kind of right. Most of them are right or almost right.

“ _ B- _ .” I say.

“Damn.” He sits his head back on the table.

I get up. “Break time. Let’s go watch TV.”

“But… I have to fix them…” He mumbles into the table.

“No. It was a test. No changing answers.” I smile.

“How will I know how to do it if you don’t help me fix them?”

“I’m a shitty tutor. What can I say? This is why you aren’t supposed to date people you work with.” I tell him.

“Oh. I thought that was just because it would be awkward if you broke up. Can we at least go over them after TV time? I really do need your help.”

We will if he doesn’t fucking fall asleep.

“Probably. You should get a new tutor.” I suggest.

“No. Just get good.”

I poke his back. “Not gonna happen. Let’s go.”

“I cannot. I am sleeping.”

“Oh no. I’m going to go upstairs and watch TV by myself, then.” 

“Don’t leave me. I’m lonely.”

“Me, too. Let’s go.” I rub his back.

He’s tense. 

As usual.

He sighs and lifts his head. “If we go upstairs, I’m  _ going _ to fall asleep, you know that, right?”

“I know. I’ll wake you up.” I promise.

“Okay.” He says, getting up and taking my hand.

…

Damien fell asleep within five minutes.

At this point, I’m just used to it.

The annoying part is knowing that he isn’t listening to me anymore.

But, if he only listens to me as much as I listen to him, it’s not something I need to worry about. Because it’s pretty much the same.

_ Talking to a brick wall _ …

Right. 

My mom’s journal said that about me a lot. So I’m not surprised.

“Damien. Wake the hell up. What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shake him a bit.

“I’m awake!” He yawns.

I grab his face. “ **_Are you_ ** ?” I ask carefully.

He opens his eyes and blinks at me sleepily. “Yuh.”

“Are you  **_sure_ ** ?”

“Yes. Hello.”

“Good,” I giggle, “How are you?”

“I’m amazing. I have a really cute and smart boyfriend. I think you would like him.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, trust me. He’s very cute. Like, imagine…the cutest thing you can. It’s that, times a million.” He says.

“You’re the cutest thing I can imagine.”

“Well, that times a million. That’s you.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t sound right. I think your cuteness is 10/10, and it’s kinda complicated to multiply that by a million…” I tell him.

“Well, good thing you’re smart then.”

“Good thing. Right,” I nod, “You’re not actually the cutest thing I can imagine. Not 10/10 either, more like 6/10.”

“Don’t make me go back to sleep. I’ll do it.”

“Why? Come on...being  _ cute _ isn’t your thing.”

“Well, I don’t want to be scary. That’s what you’re going to say is  _ my thing _ …or a dumb-ass.”

“I was going to say you’re  _ hot _ .” I correct.

“...Oh. Thank you.”

“I can’t see you, so it’s not really my opinion. The general public seems to find your type of appearance  _ hot _ , though. Probably 9/10.”

“Did you take a poll?”

“No. But I should.” 

That would make it a scientific study.

“That would be hilarious.  _ Excuse me, sir? Can you rate my boyfriend on a 1-10 scale?” _ He says, raising his voice an octave, as if being me.

I shake my head  _ no _ . 

“Someone would say 10 and I would be sad.” 

“Yeah, maybe we don’t do that.”

“ **_We_ ** ? Would I just be dragging you around and showing you off to people?”

“Yes. It would be very funny.”

“No… People would flirt with you.” I whine.

“So what? I wouldn’t really flirt back that much.”

“You wouldn’t  _ that much _ …?”

“I can’t help it! When people flirt with me, I panic!”

I let go of him and shift to be leaning against him again. 

“Don’t do that.” I say.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hug me.” I tell him.

He pulls me close, resting his head on top of mine. “You’re small.”

“I am not.” I snuggle against him.

“Yes, you are.  _ Teeny tiny _ .”

My face heats up. “Shut up…” 

“It’s cute. Oh. I have something important to tell you!”

“What is it?” I hide my face against his chest.

“Look at me first, so I know you’re listening.”

“I’m not  _ listening _ .” I argue.

“Josiah…!” He complains.

I lean back enough to look up at him. “You’re going to make fun of me.” I sigh.

“No. I’m going to do this.  **Boop** .” 

He boops my nose.

I glare at him.

“You’re making fun of me.” I insist.

“What? No I’m not!”

“I’m not a baby…” I drop my head onto his chest again.

“I didn’t say you were a baby. I said you were cute.”

“Then you  _ booped _ me.”

“‘Cause you’re cute,” He insists, “If you don’t like it, I can stop.”

“I like it… It just makes my face get really hot and then I can’t think straight and it’s weird…”

“Oh. It makes you blush… I like when you do that. I like making you all flustered.  **Cute** .”

“Stop…” I whine against him.

“Okay.” 

I look up at him again. “Why do you insist on treating me like a baby?”

“I do no such thing.”

“Have you ever once  _ booped _ another person?” I counter.

“I’ve never loved another person.”

“I don’t believe that.” 

“I mean, like, _ loved another person _ who isn’t my family.” He tries to explain.

“I know.” I say.

“Why don’t you believe me then?”

“With how many people you know… You had to have had feelings for other people. You didn’t  _ boop _ them.”

“Having  _ feelings for someone _ and  _ loving someone _ is different.”

“Not really. What’s the difference?”

“It’s complicated. But love is unconditional, having feelings for someone is just thinking they're cute and nothing else.”

“Nothing is  _ unconditional _ . And you really think all of that? Having  _ feelings for someone _ is just what you call it before you’re dating.”

“Yeah. Or before you catch feelings for someone else. Like having a crush on someone. Then you date for a while, and if you’re lucky, you want to be with that person forever. No matter what. Unconditionally. That’s  _ love _ . Or what I think it is.”

“Love can go away, too, though.”

“Can it? Or did you just not really love them? I don’t think love can go away. I just think at that point, it didn’t exist.”

My heart aches a bit.

“Love can go away if someone does something really bad.”

“No, it can’t.” He says.

“Bullshit.”

“That’s not how it works. Or how I work, I guess.”

“That’s exactly how it works. I know  **_people_ ** . I know what I’m talking about. And sometimes, you can love someone, but stop loving them some times and not other times.” 

“My turn to call  _ bullshit _ . You don't know what  _ love  _ to me is like. It’s different with everyone. I’ll never get over you. If something happened… I would always love you.”

“What if I was bad to you?” I ask softly.

I feel like I’ve mentioned this before…

“I would still love you.”

I don’t like that.

“You shouldn’t love people who are bad to you.”

“It doesn’t mean I would stay. It just means I would still love you.”

“Alright. You need to get over that. That’ll just make you miss people. Then you’ll be sad.”

“I’m already sad. Why bother trying to change things that I can’t anyway?”

I shift away, laying on his shoulder instead. “I want you to be happy. You need to do what makes you happy.” I tell him.

“You wouldn’t like my answer to that.”

“Don’t say that. Tell me.”

“You’ll just cry again. I don’t like making you cry.”

“I’m about to start crying anyway right now. Might as well be honest with me.”

“Nothing makes me happy anymore. At least, not enough to matter.”

I sit upright, turning and looking at him.

“ _ Nothing _ ?” I ask.

“Not enough to outweigh everything else.” He confirms..

"Then there's nothing you can do. And nothing matters." I murmur. 

"I guess so."

"My mom did a lot of journaling and scrapbooking. She wrote things like that a lot." I tell him. 

If he thinks those things, too, then...

"Did she? I never get to hear much about her."

"I don't remember her. But dad used to sit me down and make me read all of her stuff..." I back away from him a bit, "She said all the things she thought would make her happier just made it worse."

"I don't know how it was for your mom. But I can tell you you're not making things worse. You're one of the few reasons I'm still here." He says quietly.

"You might think that. But mom had me for five years and she insisted that I gave her purpose, when all I did was make her sad and stressed." 

I pull the long sleeved shirt over my hands, staring down at my lap. 

Crying would just prove his point. 

"That's not it. Please don't think that I feel that way. I don't. I promise you are helping. I do. I'm not like your mom."

"If nothing m-makes you happy, then...then..." I struggle to keep holding back tears, bringing my hands up to pull my hair, "Then nothing's helping." 

"Don't pull your hair. Please. You're helping. I promise. I won't… I won’t do that. To you."

" **_I'm your punishment_ ** ." I start again. 

I try to look at him, but I can't bring myself to. 

Not when my eyes fill with tears. 

"Josiah... No, you're not. If I could change how I felt, I would… I just… I  **can't** . But I'm trying. And I'll figure this out. I promise."

I pull harder and close my eyes. "I'm s-sorry." 

I'm bad. He shouldn't love me. He shouldn't involve himself with me at all. 

I shouldn't be here. I'm ruining things. 

For him... For everyone…

I need to  **_leave_ ** . 

"I want to m-make you happy, but I-I c-can't because...I just k-keep making things w-worse."

"Josiah, **stop pulling your hair** ," He instructs in his serious voice. He then softens his tone, "You shouldn't be sorry. I would have been dead in August if I didn't meet you. You’re not making anything worse. You’re making me better. I promise. If you weren't here, I would have left."

I drag my eyes up to him. "Why c-can't I pull...?" I manage. 

It makes him mad. I need to stop. 

I don't want him to be mad. 

He'll...leave me... 

"You'll hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt yourself."

"But I was bad..." I whisper. 

"No, you were not."

A sob slips out of me and I quickly cover my mouth with both hands. 

"I...I'm sorry..." I mumble.

"Don't be sorry. Can I hug you?  **_I'm sorry_ ** . I shouldn't have said that."

I instantly go back to him and cling onto him, grabbing his shirt with one hand and still covering my mouth with the other, trying not to make noise. 

He gently wraps his arms around me. 

"It's s-scary," I try, "Hurting you..." 

I don't want to ruin his life. 

"You can cry. It’s okay. Everything's going to be okay," He says, rubbing my back, "You're not hurting me."

I curl up against him. "But you're n-not  **_happy_ ** ."

It's my job to help him. I'm supposed to make him feel better. 

I try to tell him that we'll be okay, but...I'm not really helping. Ever.

Probably because I don’t believe it, either.

"It’s okay. I think if I keep trying I will be." He says hopefully.

That's not how it works. You can't just change that sort of thing.

"Promise t-to k-keep trying?" 

"I promise."

I rub my eyes and press my forehead to the crook of his neck. "I love you." I tell him. 

"I love you, too. More than anything. Always."

"I l-love you more. Don't leave m-me." 

"I..." His voice cracks and he stops for a second, "I won't."

"Thank you." I mumble. 

A part of my mind wants to kiss him, but the other part reminds me of how scared I would be. 

I just remember Damien slipping a hand under my shirt and all I can think of is how horrifying sex is. 

I'll never be able to give him that sort of intimacy... 

"...I'm sorry." I say again after a minute of silence. 

I'm sorry for not being perfect. 

"What for?" 

"For...kissing rules. And for s-screaming at nighttime. For making every conversation into a reason to c-cry, and for being so needy, and impatient, and..." I ramble. 

"Stop it. You don't have to apologize. You are perfect to me. No matter what you say or do. I'm serious. And it's okay to cry. I do it all the time."

He either needs to accept the apologies or punish me for them. I know I give him a hard time...with  _ everything _ . He isn't going to convince me otherwise. 

"I'm sorry for not listening. F-For being a brick wall." I add. 

Because I'm not listening to him now. 

"It's okay." 

I close my eyes, sighing deeply. 

He's never going to admit that I'm the worst. 

" _ It's okay _ ..." I echo, trying to convince myself. 

I relax into his touch. I like it when he holds me and rubs my back. 

As long as he doesn't touch my skin. 

"...I'm just tired." I claim.

"Do you want to go to bed?"

"I don't want you to let go of me." I shake my head. 

Ever. 

"Then let's just stay here."

"But tutoring..." I remind him. 

Watch me be the one to go to sleep and ruin it. Ironic. 

"I'll look over it later tonight. I won't sleep anyway."

He should sleep. It's one of his major problems. 

I don't reply because I know I'll just start more fights, like always. I just cuddle up to him, feeling safe with him. 

He protects me. Being away from him is scary. 

I start to drift off in his arms a few minutes later. 

…

-Thursday, October 28th-

When I wake up, I’m in a bed. 

I faintly remember Damien carrying me, but I’m not sure if it was a dream or if it was real.

I sit upright, rubbing my eyes.

Where are my glasses...?

What time is it...? 

I feel around for my phone, but it’s not on the bed.

It seems like it’s still dark...

I shouldn’t be awake yet.

But I don’t think I can fall back to sleep. Not like this, at least.

I get up carefully, unsure if there’s anything on the floor in this room.

I walk forward slowly until I feel the wall. I then locate the door to Damien’s room. 

I crack it open. “Damien...?” I call out.

“Josiah? I’m out here.” He calls from seemingly nowhere.

“ _Out…_ **_Where_**?” I question.

“Hi. Out here.” 

“Outside?!” I go to the window, and he’s peeking his head in, “How are you  **_outside_ ** …?”

“The roof is right here and it’s not very slanted. It’s my thinking place. Also, I’m doing homework.”

... **What** ?

“You’re on the roof?”

“Yep. Contemplating life and math problems at the same time.”

“Come back inside.”

“No, thanks. Why are you up? It’s 3:30.” He’s just leaning in now, seeming strangely relaxed. Definitely making no move to come inside...from what I can tell.

“It is…? I woke up and I was lonely. Come in.”

“Come out.”

“I don’t think that’s safe, though. You wouldn’t let me.” If he was in his right mind.

“ _ Oh _ . You’re right. Can I help you with something?” He laughs.

“Come in for cuddles so I can go back to sleep…”

He sighs, “I’m never going to get my homework done, you know that, right?”

That’s a good point. 

Or maybe this is just his way of telling me to leave him alone. Because he doesn’t like yelling and being scary. 

“Okay. I’ll just go back to the other room, then.”

“No!” He goes back outside, then comes back in with his backpack, dropping it on the floor, “I want cuddles.”

“Then don’t be an ass.” I reply.

“ _ Sorry _ ,” He sits down on the couch, grabbing a blanket first, “Okay. Cuddle time.”

“Don’t go out on the roof again.” I go over and drop down beside him, immediately snuggling close.

“It’s not dangerous. It helps me think.”

“You can’t say it’s dangerous for me and not for you.” I argue.

“I can  **_see_ ** .”

“Right. And I would be out there with you, a person who can see. So that isn’t an excuse.”

“You would find a way to fall off, even if I was carrying you.”

“Only if I was really trying to. So, no.”

“Okay. Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. But I didn’t feel safe, so I came here. Why weren’t you asleep?”

“I wasn’t joking. I haven’t been able to sleep for a while now.” He starts gently petting my head.

“Sleep now.” I tell him.

“I guess I could try…” He leans his head back.

I lay on him, sighing and relaxing my body.

I’m safe.  _ Everything is okay. _

“You have an alarm set for school?” I ask softly.

“Mhm.” He murmurs.

Okay. 

Sleep time, then.

…

The whole time Damien has been gone for his _ family time _ stuff, I’ve just been hiding in the closet in the guest room. Waiting. 

Waiting for Damien to be done so we can relax. 

Until then, I will sit here and just rock back and forth and pull my hair. 

I’m okay.

There’s nothing wrong with pulling my hair. No matter what Damien says. 

I’m fine. 

It doesn’t hurt. Not as much as I deserve, at least.

The bedroom door opens and I instantly hold my breath to make sure I’m silent.

“ _ Josiah _ !?” Pierre calls for me.

I can hear footsteps as he comes over to the closet. He knocks gently on the door, making me wince.

I can’t stand that sound. 

All I can think of is when I would hide at home. And my aunt would bang on the door and scream at me.

I can’t breathe. I need Damien.

“Josiah. If you’re in there, you can come out. You don’t need to be afraid here. Would you like some Pop-Tarts? Damien wanted me to make sure you aren’t hungry.” He says.

I hit my head against the wall a few times, trying to calm down. “ **_I’m fine_ ** .” I tell him.

“Are you sure? Damien should be done any time now. Is there anything I can help you with in the meantime? You don’t have to hide in there. No one will hurt you here.”

I curl up tighter. “I’ll eat when Damien c-comes back.” 

Will that be a problem this weekend? I’m sure. I bet it’ll make them mad.

_ Do I care _ ?  **_No_ ** . 

I don’t feel safe eating if it’s not Damien giving me the food. 

I shift a bit, staring intently at the door. “Don’t open the door.” I warn.

“I won’t. But you really should come out here. And maybe curl up with a blanket and relax a bit. I won’t invade your… _ closet time _ .”

“Will you leave me alone if I come out…?” I ask cautiously. 

“Yes. I’ll go downstairs and you won't have to deal with my  _ old man chatter _ the rest of the evening.”

Good.

I get up and push the door open with one hand, the other staying in my hair.

“Damien trusts you too much.” I add, looking at him and making sure that he isn’t going to try anything.

It’s been a long time since I’ve actually had the ability to tell when people are going to hurt me. I just try to watch for movement.

“I hope he does. I spent most of his childhood raising him to not be _ too _ bad of a person,” He says, “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it then. I brought a fresh fluffy blanket up from the wash.”

“He’s a good person.” I state, watching him go to the door.

“I’m glad to hear that. He worries me sometimes.”

“I’m just scared he’s going to hurt himself.” I mumble.

I go retrieve the blanket.

“He’s always had so much pressure on him. Ever since he was a kid. I don’t think he will, but all we can really do is keep an eye on him and let him know he’s loved. Someday, he’ll be better. When he’s far away from here.”

“My mom killed herself. I don’t trust anyone, especially not Damien.” I reply.

I don’t trust Damien to not be like her.

But I need him. So as long as he’ll stay with me… Then, okay.

I go back to the closet door.

“Is it really that bad now?” He asks sadly.

“I’m really worried about him… I think it’s that bad.” I confirm.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m going to talk to him after he's done.”

“Okay,” I go back into the closet and slam it shut, wincing again, “ _ Bye _ .”

I sit down on the floor.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He says. I hear the door shut.

I’m not 100% sure that he left. I’m not going to open the door at least until Damien gets back…

End


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Thursday, October 28th-

I walk up from the basement, checking my phone, despite Josiah being right upstairs.

I spot Pierre In the kitchen.

“Hey!” I greet him, opening the fridge, “Anything good?”

He doesn’t answer me and I joke, “Did you go deaf old man? I mean, you’re practically four hundred years old, so…”

That usually gets a rise out of him. And he’ll throw an oven mitt at me, or something.

But nothing.

I turn to look at him. “What’s up? Are you mad? What did I do now?”

He’s doing the dishes in silence.

I musta fucked up.

I stand beside him and say, “I’ll dry.”

He looks over at me, and says, “I was talking to Josiah just a bit ago…” He hands me a plate from dinner.

I dry it off and put it in the drying rack.

We have a dishwasher, but Pierre insists it’s better to do them by hand.

Whatever. I’ve been on drying duty since I was tall enough to reach the sink.

“Is that a good thing, or…?”

From his reaction, I’m assuming it’s not.

“Damien, he’s very concerned for you. And I am, too… You’ve been drinking  **a lot** and I can’t imagine how hard it is to balance school, and the business, and Josiah, and all that that entails and I just want to make sure you’re taking time for  **you** .”

He holds a dish out but I don’t take it.

If he thinks something’s wrong… He might try to keep me out of the alcohol.

I can’t… I have to have some sort of de-stresser.

Besides, I really don’t drink that much.

“Pierre, I’m fine. I don’t drink  **that** much. And it’s not that bad.”

“I’m really worried about you with Josiah here now… He’s a nice boy, but he’s upstairs hiding in a closet right now... He doesn’t seem well, and I don't want him hurting you.”

I grab the sides of the sink so hard my knuckles go white.

“Do not bring Josiah into this.” I growl.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “And don’t you forget who’s raised you. I’m not your dad, and I sure as hell won’t tell you what you can and can’t do, but I won’t let you destroy yourself like this. I’m going to lock the liquor cabinet when no one is here. I know you can pick locks, but I’m going to seriously suggest that you think about breaking the trust here, Damien.”

“I don’t have a problem!” I snap, “You’re being ridiculous! You’re not my dad, and you shouldn’t try to be!”

He glares at me. “Then quit acting like a fucking child, and I won’t have to.” He calms down and continues in a nicer tone, “I think you should maybe talk to someone. It might help.”

I say nothing, and just stare into the soapy water.

“Damien, you just seem so sad. All the time. And Josiah said that he’s afraid you’ll…”

He can’t say it. No one can.

“ **_Kill myself_ ** .” I say, tearing my eyes away from the suds and staring him dead in the eye.

“Is… Is he right? Do you want to do that?”

_ Yes. _

_ Some days. _

“No!” I say, “I could never. Josiah likes to overreact. And so do you! Have fun with your dishes. Maybe  **think** about it before you confront me again.” I threaten.

I never wanted to threaten Pierre, but…

Them trying to baby me and act like this is a problem when it’s not is starting to piss me off.

But Pierre said Josiah was in a closet.

I calm myself down until I make it to the guest room.

I’m not mad anymore.

Just really tired.

Me and Dad pretty much just worked on self-defense stuff today, and he sets the pace.

Today, he went hard, and after not sleeping for like a week, it about killed me.

I stop at the door and take a deep breath, before knocking on it.

“Josiah? Can I come in? It’s me, Damien.” I say through the door.

Hopefully, he can hear me. I don’t want to scare him.

“Yeah. Are you done?” He asks.

I’m still in my workout clothes, and could use a shower, but other than that, I’m done for the night.

I open the door and see him sitting in the closet with the door open.

“What are you doing in there?” I ask him, coming over and kneeling outside the closet.

“I was hiding.” He whispers.

“From what?” I ask him softly. He looks faraway. But at least he’s responding.

I want to ask him why the fuck he threw Pierre at me like that, but I dont have the energy to do that to him. Or the cruelty. 

He looks fucked up.

“Bad people.” He responds.

“No one is here but us. Why don’t we go back to my room and relax?”

I need to pack at some point, but we don’t fly out until eight tomorrow night, so I’m not too worried about it.

“Okay. But we need to be careful.”

“My dad said he and mom had to prep stuff for the trip late tonight. We’ll be okay.”

I gently put a hand out for him and he takes it.

Mine’s shaking, but he doesn't notice, or he doesn’t care.

I lead him back to my room and see a blanket on the couch.

Cool.

I wrap it around my shoulders, cause I’m in my workout tank top and doubt he would appreciate that.

He’s weird about some stuff.

But I won’t push it. Not tonight, or before I leave.

It will be hard enough without him.

I sit down and he curls up against me, my arm on the back of the couch and the other on the armrest.

He rests his head on my chest.

“I don’t know what to do without you.” He murmurs.

“Sorry if I’m sweaty. Also, same here. I'm going to miss you this weekend.”

I gently brush his hair back, and let myself play with it gently.

He sighs. “Can I just be alone? I don’t like the old guy.”

“Pierre…means well. He’ll leave you be, except to make sure you eat. Speaking of, did you?”

I’m still pissed at that old guy. But I have to remind myself that he cares.

He’s just a dumb-ass.

“I haven’t. And I won’t without you.” He says.

“Josiah, you have to eat something this weekend.” I sigh. I can't deal with worrying about this right now.

_ Just breathe… _

“No, I don’t.” He argues.

“Please don’t fight with me. Not tonight.” I take a breath, making sure I don’t start panicking.

I can’t deal with any more fighting.

_ I can’t _ ...

**_God_ ** .

I’m so fucking worried about this trip.

“I’m not fighting with you. I’m just telling you.”

“You are fighting with me. You have to eat.”

If he’s not cuddling and telling me he loves me, he’s arguing.

It’s just how he is.

Normally, it doesn't bother me, but I  **can’t** tonight.

I just need a long hug and to feel like for three seconds, my world isn’t shattering.

“I’m not allowed to if you don’t give it to me. It’s not fighting. It’s just the rules.”

“You don’t have rules!” I snap and he winces.

Shit.

I didn’t want to…

“I’m sorry...” I say so quietly, I’m surprised he hears me, “I don’t want to be mad at you tonight. Or ever really.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to be bad.”

I hold back a sigh.

“You were not bad. I’m just…in a  **perpetual** bad day.”

“No… It was my fault. I think your rules for me are different than mine are…?”

“I just want you to be happy and healthy. I want you to eat and not hurt yourself. And to be safe until I can make it back to you. And I want you to give Pierre a chance.”

“Not until you’re home. And Pierre is  **_scary_ ** .”

“No, he isn’t. And please, I have to  **know** you’ll be here when I get back.”

_...Or I won't come back. _

“I’ll be fine. I’ll just stay in the guest room the whole time…in the closet.”

“ **No** .” I say, trying to sound like I mean business without scaring him.

I doubt it’s possible, but I can try to not scare him every three seconds.

“Why not…?” He whines.

“ **_Because_ ** . You have to eat twice a day and you can’t stay in the closet all weekend.” I demand.

Maybe if I just…give him rules without trying to completely control him…

“I’m supposed to stay in the closet when you’re not around, though. It’s how things are  **_supposed_ ** to be.”

“ **No** . You’re not. You can stay in my room, but not the closet. I’ll only be gone for less than three days. You can stay out of the closet for that long.”

“Does it make you mad?”

“It makes me  **_sad_ ** . Not  _ mad _ .”

I just need to know he’ll take care of himself for  **two goddamn seconds** …

“Why? I’m fine.” 

“ _ Bullshit _ , Josiah.” I try to calm down.

It was dumb of me to try and talk to him tonight...

I’ll only fuck stuff up more.

“You don’t even try to do what I ask. Ever. At least I try to do the stuff you tell me to. Granted, it doesn’t always turn out, but at least I’m trying! I cannot lose you. I need to know you’ll be okay this weekend,” I take his hand, “I need you to be  **strong** and  **okay** while I’m gone.”

I need to make sure he’ll be okay if something happens.

Dad said this trip shouldn’t be too dangerous…

But he’s also packing a small armory.

And if I have to arm myself…

I should be worried.

“I’m okay. Don’t yell at me.”

“Sorry.” I say quietly.

He’s not fucking okay.

I stare down at him, just keeping my mouth shut.

I can’t fuck shit up anymore if I shut the fuck up.

After a bit of silence, he breaks it, “...Did you have fun with family time?” 

“No.” Is all I say.

I can’t…

All I want to do is get a bottle of somthing cold and sit on the roof, letting my legs dangle off the edge, and contemplate  _ why the fuck I exist. _

“Okay. Want to tell me why?”

“I never enjoy it. And I’m not looking forward to this weekend. I’ve been dreading it since I found out.”

How much can I tell him…?

“Why don’t you want to go?” 

Now would be the time…

“It’s going to be all business…”

**_Scary business_ ** _. _

_ Gun related, drug related, illegal business. _

_ Business that people get killed over. _

But would it really matter if I died?

In the long run, if it wasn’t for Josiah needing me…

I would go in guns fucking blazing.

“Boring, I’m sure.” He says.

Far fucking from it.

More like  _ terrifying _ .

“Please call me when you get the chance.”

“I’ll try.”

I don’t know if I’ll be able to slip away at all, but I can try.

“They’ll keep a close eye on me, so I’m not sure…but if anything, I’ll be able to text for sure.” I say.

“Alright…and I’ll try to be nice to the old guy.” He says.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for yelling. I don’t like yelling at you.”

“Don’t worry about that. My brain always thinks people are yelling when they’re upset. It hurts.”

“I wish it didn’t. And I hope your weekend isn’t very bad. Like I said, you can stay in here if you want.”

As long as he stays out of the closet…

I guess I’m taking my pistol with me anyway…

That and my  _ knives _ .

I’m more confident with those, but  _ don't bring a knife to a gunfight _ and all that shit.

Hopefully, I won't have to worry about that.

...But it’s better to be prepared.

…

-Friday, October 29th-

I pack for the eighty degree weather we’re supposed to have, making sure to toss in some nicer clothes, like mom instructed. Josiah is sitting on my couch, pouting.

“You’ll be back Sunday…?” He asks for the millionth time today.

“Yes. Probably late Sunday. I’m not sure when we’re flying back.” I look over at him.

He’s playing with his long sleeves, looking sadly at me.

If I could, I would scoop him up in my arms and we would run far away from here.

“I’ll stay up and wait for you.”

“Don’t. It could be as late as, like, 3:00 a.m. Really. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

I go to my closet and grab my holster and gun case. It looks just like a normal black case, as long as he doesn’t see the holster from here.

I quickly stuff them in the bag and he says nothing.

“There. I’m done.”

My knives are on my belt, my flannel covering them.

I still have an hour or so before we leave.

Pierre’s house sitting while we’re away, and also Josiah-sitting.

“Don’t leave…” He mumbles.

I sit beside him and he pulls me into a tight hug.

"If I could stay I would. I promise." I rub his back gently.

"I'm going to wear all of your clothes so I can smell you."

"...Even my jeans?" I laugh, "They might be a little long… Or my shoes. You would fall over."

"Yes. I'm going to sit here and wear all of your clothes all weekend." 

"I mean... _ okay _ . Whatever makes you feel better, I suppose..." I hold him tightly, "I don't want to go." I admit quietly, the fear seeping through, despite me trying not to be scared.

I'm fucking terrified.

"I know. But just try not to be too bored, and I promise I'll stay safe. Okay?" 

"Right. Sure."

God. If only that was the case.

I hate lying to him.

I'm surprised he believes me in the first place.

I pull away and he looks up at me with his big blue eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask him, gently pushing the hair from his eyes.

"I-...uh..." He looks down a bit, "Yeah..."

I lean down and gently peck him on the lips, not lingering or touching him anymore than I was.

Despite wanting nothing more than to push him back on this couch, and...

No. I can't think like that.

It's just a kiss.

I lean away and hug him again.

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry." He says softly.

"What for?" I ask, playing with his soft hair, petting it back softly.

I have to remember how far we've gotten with the touch thing.

This is good.

Way better than before.

"The...kissing thing... I know touching makes you happy and I'm not very good at it..." 

"Hey. I don't mind it. This is nice. It feels... **real** ." I say, holding him close.

I would be lying if I said I always liked it, but most days, I'm just glad he's mine, and he’s safe.

" _ Real _ ?" He questions.

"Yeah.  **_Real_ ** . It feels...like, maybe stuff will work out someday. Like someone cares." I hesitate.

"It feels good."

"Oh. I'm glad... It never feels real to me." 

"How so?" I ask, picking a particularly light strand of his hair and twirling it a bit.

I like it messy.

"I mean  _ real _ , like...like it's actually happening. I think my brain made you up." 

"If your brain made me up, I would be perfect."

Not depressed.

Or suicidal.

Or drunk constantly.

Or a fucking nightmare of a person.

"You are perfect. For me."

"Thank you,” I say, missing his hair a bit, "Messy." I giggle.

He scrunches up his nose at me.

And I can’t help but laugh some more.

"You're cute." I inform him.

"Stop it..." He complains. 

"I'm dead serious."

I grin at him, wishing so much to kiss him again.

"You. Are. Adorable."

"I'm not a baby!" 

I sigh. "You kinda are, buddy."

He scrunches up his nose again and I have to hold back a smile.

"You're adorable. Face it. The cutest thing I've ever seen."

I can’t call him  _ sexy _ .

That’s for fucking sure.

So I'll settle for this.

I push a bit or his hair behind his ear. "And you're beautiful, too."

His eyes go wide and he blushes. "No..." 

"Yep. It’s true." I say, leaning back, not sure if I took it too far.

"Liar." He covers his face with his hands. 

"You can always tell when I lie. Am I lying?" I ask him, "Don't cover your face. It’s perfect."

"You're just always lying. No, it's not. It's burning." 

"Good. That means I did good…” I sigh and lean my head back, "I'm dying. Lack of hugs. It's fatal."

"Don't say that." He says instantly. 

"Sorry. I just meant I wanted a hug. I’m not dying."

He wraps his arms around me and hides his face against my chest. "Alright."

"Thank you."

...

Way too soon, my dad yells from downstairs, "Damien, it's time to go!"

Shit.

Josiah fell asleep a bit ago.

"One second!" I call back.

He looks up at me groggily.

"What's...going on?" He asks, half asleep. 

"I have to go," I say, getting up and kissing the top of his head, "I love you." 

I grab my duffle bag and sling it over my shoulder.

His eyes fill with tears. "I love you, too." 

"Don't cry. I'll be back before you know it. And then we can be together. Always." 

I stand there for a moment, and he gets up and barrels into me, hugging me tightly.

"I'm scared." 

"Don't be. You'll be okay. I know it. I'll text as much as I can. And..."

"Damien! Don’t make me come up there!" My mom yells.

"Shit." I say, letting him go, "I’ll see you soon, okay?

I stop at the door and watch him rub tears from his eyes.

"Goodbye... I'll m-miss you a lot." He says. 

"I'll miss you, too."

It takes all my strength to leave.

I shut the door behind me and feel tears threaten my eyes.

But I have to be strong.

Just get through this.

Until things improve.

Even just a little.

...

We take a private plane across the border. 

No airline in their right mind would let us come through with this sort of ammunition...or  _ cargo _ .

Dad keeps telling me all about the client, and how we supply the most drugs and ammunition for him.

But he's been weird about his orders lately, so we're here to smooth things over.

Should be an in and out job, but despite it being an  _ in and out job _ , Dad brought two security guys with him. When I questioned it, he said that we always need to be prepared.

Mom said us showing up in person is a good way for it to seem more personal. To gain their trust.

As I stare out the window at the city below us, I can't help but think of Josiah standing in my room, tears in his eyes, and messy bed head…telling me to stay...

God. I wish I was with him.

It's all I want, actually.

As soon as we land on the airstrip, a nondescript black car pulls up beside the plane.

Someone rushes in and grabs our bags, but I don’t let them take mine.

I don't like being... _ served _ .

It makes me feel weird.

I sit my bag in with Mom and Dad’s in the back of the car, and I join them in the back.

It's hot, and it’s like 1:00 a.m. So I can't imagine what tomorrow will be like.

There are two people in the car; The driver and someone else in the passenger seat.

They roll the partition down, and immediately, I'm met with unease.

Without meaning to, my hand goes to the knives on my belt.

The man says, "Your buyer sent me. He is available to meet you tomorrow night."

My dad is usually the one to make the rules…

To have people meet him.

I look over at him, hand still on my knife.

Wishing I wasn't here.

I just have to survive the weekend.

Dad looks a bit...bored?

He laughs and leans back, "What's with all the theatrics? Just drop us at our hotel."

Oh.

I guess everything is fine…?

I'm too tense for this.

The man scowls and rolls up the partition.

I stay silent and Dad just chats to Mom as if this is fucking normal…?!

We roll up to a huge fancy hotel and the partition rolls down again. "We will be here tomorrow at eight to pick you up."

My dad nods and we leave the hotel.

We check in under a false name, and we head up to the room.

The place is stupid fancy.

Polished wood floors...

Tall white ceilings...

Chandeliers...

A long red rug leading through the halls...

As if reading my mind, my mom says, "The client insisted he pay for a nice place for us to stay over the weekend."

I nod, and my dad finishes checking in.

An attendant takes our bags, but I carry mine.

He leads us to an elevator and hits the button for the 24th floor.

Jesus.

I haven't said a word since we've landed.

As long as I keep my head down and focus on making it back to Josiah…

He takes us to room 2403, giving us keycards and leading us in.

It’s huge. And has two rooms with two king sized beds.

The smaller room has a balcony that looks out and over the city.

The attendant sits Mom and Dad’s bags on the table and he tips him.

As soon as the man leaves, I put my duffle on the bed in the smaller room.

My dad has the security guys make their rounds and then keep a guard just inside the hotel door, as if he’s expecting something bad to happen. He then dismisses the other two.

"Go ahead and get some sleep, Damien. You'll be attending the meeting tomorrow night, but your mother and I have some other things to attend, too. So feel free to explore," He hands me a wad of cash and says, "Don't cause too much trouble while you’re here."

I take it and mom says, "Don't use your real name. Or ID. You have your fake one. Use that."

They made me a fake one a long time ago and it still sits in my wallet. I’m glad I brought it.

I nod. "I’ll leave my real one here."

"And don’t leave without a weapon. Goodnight."

He dismisses me.

I nod again and go into my room, shutting the door behind me.

I go out on the balcony and look down at the bright city below me.

A breeze floats through and I lean on the railing.

We're really high up.

I like it.

It's calming out here.

I pull out my phone and text Josiah.

Made it safely. The city is beautiful. I wish you were here to see it with me. I get the whole day to just explore tomorrow.

He responds rather quickly and I have to remind myself he's in a different time zone.

It's only, like, 11:30 for him.

**_Josiah_** : Good. That sounds fun.

How are you doing?

It hasn’t been very long since I saw him, but I was terrified to leave him and I'm worried about how he's going to handle being alone.

**_Josiah_** : okay-ish

**_Josiah_** : how are you? 

okay-ish. I somehow already miss you. But my room is cool. We're on the like 24th floor and i have a balcony. 

I like it here. Its warm

I want to come back here someday when I'm not on like a fucking drugs deal.

**_Josiah_** : I’ve missed you since you walked out the door. I’m glad you like it 💙

I should let you get some sleep. I'll try to text you tomorrow

I love you💙💛

**_Josiah_** : I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without you here. But I love you too 💛💙 see you soon 😘

  
  


I slip my phone in my pocket and go into my room.

I open my duffle bag and I see my gun case.

I don't like having a gun.

I mean, it’s nice to know I have a way to protect myself, and dad makes me practice with it almost every week. 

I get bullseye every time.

But…

I open the case and hold the cold silver pistol in my hand.

It’s too easy here…

I stare at the gun and think about how simple it would be…

_ Load it. _

_ Pull the trigger. _

**_Boom_ ** .

**_Dead_ ** .

Or, alternatively... 

_ Go on the balcony and just fall. _

I feel like jumping would be nicer.

And an easier mess to clean up…

I open the chamber.

It's already loaded.

My chest constricts, but it's almost like a weight is lifted off my shoulders.

_ It will all be over soon. _

I close it again and turn the safety off.

All of this could be over if…

No.

**No** .

I put the safety back on and shove it into the case, closing it and sitting it across the room.

I promised Josiah I would come home.

I promised him.

I can’t here.

Not like this.

I go back outside and sit on the balcony, holding back tears.

I pull my knees to my chest and try to breathe.

I just have to make it home.

_ Push down the fear and push down how fucked up all of this is… _

_ Push down the fact that I would rather be dead than in this field of work... _

_ Push down the fact that I might have to use that gun… _

_ Push down the fact that I'll never be able to make my parents proud of me. _

**Because I’m** **_weak_ ** .

If I wasn't so weak, maybe I wouldn’t want to kill myself, either…

My entire body shakes and I lean over and shut the door to the hotel room.

As soon as it's shut and I know the noise won't get through, I begin to sob.

I wish I was home.

End


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Saturday, October 30th-

 _I have never once missed someone more than I miss Damien right now_.

By morning, it’s to the point where I’m really just tempted to leave and go home, to be with familiar people. At a familiar place.

But, I don’t think I should.

It’s almost a choice between being home and being with Damien again. 

Because, if I left… I don’t know if he would be okay with that. I think he would be mad.

I’m mad at him for leaving and it wasn’t even his choice. 

Point is, I do not like being left here with his _butler_.

It almost feels like I’m being babysat. I hate that.

I’m not a little kid. 

I’m not a **baby** , no matter what Damien says.

I could stay here alone…

I could be anywhere alone. I have been my whole fucking life.

I did **not** like being forced to eat dinner yesterday. 

And as soon as he texts me that it’s time for breakfast/lunch, I go into the closet and shut the door tightly.

Damien would be pissed.

I hope this old guy isn’t reporting back to him or anything. 

I’ll be in a lot of trouble then.

The bedroom door opens and he calls for me.

Great. We’re doing this again. I hate this. 

If I’m quiet, he won’t know…

Within a second, he’s knocking on the closet door. 

**Fuck**.

I flinch and curl up against the wall.

That sound makes me want to stab myself or something…

It’s horrifying. 

“May I come in?” He asks after a moment.

I’m not in here.

If I’m quiet, he won’t even know.

“No.” I reply. 

Or not…?

This is why I get into trouble so much. Because I can’t control myself. 

I run both my hands into my hair and start pulling.

“I made you Pop-Tarts. When you’re ready.” He says.

I shift a bit to be pressed tightly into the corner. 

A minute passes and I don’t hear him leave. 

He’s underestimating my ability to stay in here all day. I could easily stay here until Damien gets back, even.

...Maybe. 

I could when I was little. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks.

I pull harder on my hair. “Open the door.” I tell him.

He wastes no time, opening the door. I glare up at him.

“What do you want from me?” I question sharply.

“I just need to make sure you’re okay, and that you get enough to eat.” He replies.

I tug on my hair and look down at the ground instead. 

“I’ll be okay if you leave me alone. Stop coming in here,” I order, “Are you reporting back to Damien?”

"No. But you need to eat."

“It’s one fucking day. What’s wrong with you people?” I mutter.

"We care about you."

The hell…?

I press my head back against the wall and start digging my fingernails into my arm.

This is weird. People are weird.

“ **_You_ ** don’t know me.” I mutter.

"I don't have to. I care about Damien and you mean everything to him. So, I care about you."

Damien has said that, too. That Pierre loves me because he loves me. As if that’s how it works.

“That’s what he said, too.” I say cautiously.

It’s like they’re all planning something together…

"Because it's true."

 _Because everyone fucking lies all the time_.

I need Damien. I trust him when he’s here.

When we just cuddle and talk and even though he gets mad sometimes, everything is okay.

And I can usually trust that he won’t hurt me.

“Go away and don’t come back up here. Close the door. Goodbye.” I tell him.

"I'll leave, but I'm giving you your food first."

“I won’t eat.” I warn.

That hasn’t worked on Damien even once. He always gives stuff to me anyway.

Then I need to waste it, which makes me feel worse.

But eating it would be wasting it, too. I just can’t win.

"Well. It will be here. I have orange juice, too. I'll be right back."

I watch him leave and immediately realize that I need a new hiding spot.

I could just go hide in Damien’s room. He wouldn’t expect me to be in there. 

That would confuse him. I’m sure he could never find me there.

I’d go into Damien’s bathroom and lock the door and just sit and wait for him to get back. And I won’t have to worry about anything.

Or, he has a closet in his room, too. That would work the same. It might work better.

By the time I’m done contemplating, Pierre is back.

He sets things down nearby.

“ **_Hey_ **,” I start, not moving, letting him know I am not going to eat anything, “Don’t knock on the doors. It scares me.”

He’ll be around for a while…

Maybe if he knows, he’ll stop.

I don’t know why he would, but the least I can do is ask.

"Okay. I'll just announce that I'm here. Damien said you can't see very well...?"

I shake my head. “I can’t. But I don’t like bad sounds.”

"I'll be mindful of that. Your food is on the top of the dresser. I'll be staying downstairs. If you need anything, don't hesitate to get me."

“I can’t go downstairs by myself. Damien doesn’t let me.” I tell him.

"...Okay. I suppose that makes sense. He said you have my phone number. Or you can just yell."

I force a nod and wait for him to leave again.

I’m still worried that he’s going to tell Damien I’m not following his rules, but I can’t bring myself to care.

I’m scared enough to just want to go home. 

I pull the door shut, before sitting in the corner again. 

Maybe he’s nice. 

I don’t really want to risk it. 

…

A few hours pass by before I decide to go take a shower.

Good idea. It’s been a while.

I get up and open the door. 

There’s no one in here...I think.

I leave the room and go to Damien’s room instead, going over to his dresser and stealing an outfit from him. 

Nice.

I’m just waiting for the day he snaps at me for this. Stealing isn’t okay.

But I’m not giving any of it back until he screams at me and tells me to stop.

I don’t know if I’ll stop there either…?

What’s wrong with me?

I go into his bathroom.

A bathroom...connected to his bedroom...

 **How**?

 **_Why_ **?

I don’t know. This whole house confuses me. It’s huge and has like a billion of each type of room.

I bet there’s a roller skating rink in the basement. That’s what Damien is hiding.

I crack a smile. 

He doesn’t want me to know, but I figured it out. _Because I’m smart_.

...I just don’t care enough to worry about it. That’s why I won’t ask him.

It would just serve to make him mad.

Like most of the shit I say anyways…

 **Dammit**.

“ **_Dammit_ **.” I say out loud.

I can’t be happy for more than ten seconds without Damien.

At least wearing his clothes and stuff is going to make things easier. Maybe I can trick my brain into thinking he’s here. 

Probably not. But it’ll help a little.

I know it does because of when he gave me his sweatshirt.

It made things easier…

 **Okay**.

I’m going to take a shower, then go sit in his bed for a little while. Maybe I’ll do some homework, or study something. Or take a nap.

I didn’t sleep at all last night. I need him.

Maybe I’ll be able to sleep.

 **_Maybe_ **.

...

The shower was basically just a nonstop panic attack all throughout. As soon as I drag myself out, I realize that I should probably talk to Damien so I can calm down at least a bit. 

I sit down on the floor once clothed, sending him a text. 

are you busy right now?

_**Damien**_ : im in a park i think. Whats up?

I'm hiding from the butler

_**Damien**_ : you Don't have to hide from him

_**Damien**_ : OHMYGOD JOSIAH THERES A DOG

_**Damien**_ : IM PETTING IT

I have to hide from him or he'll talk to me

_**Damien**_ : THE OWNER SPEAKS SOME ENGLISH

_**Damien**_ : IF MY SPANISH IS CORRECT ITS EITHER NAMED MUFFIN OR HANDTOWEL

what kind of dog is it

of course your Spanish isn't correct

_**Damien**_ : a Burmese Mountain. Dog

_**Damien**_ : i was wrong. Talking to the girl more and she said his name is coffee

_**Damien**_ : Oh no I fucked up

whats wrong??

_**Damien**_ : haha the girl gave me her number

_**Damien**_ : whoops. I guess i was flirting sorry

you were??

_**Damien**_ : not on purpose!

whatever

you guys don't even speak the same language

_**Damien**_ : can i call you? I miss you. 

_**Damien**_ : What? She spoke some English. I threw away her number.

some English haha

no I'm busy

_**Damien**_ : Okay.

_**Damien**_ : What r u doing

hiding in your bathroom

im busy crying

is that better

_**Damien**_ : Hey Don't cry. Let me call you

**One missed call from Damien Cohen**

_**Damien**_ : please

nooooo

we can't. I'll say something and make you upset again

_**Damien**_ : I just want to hear your voice. I got a burrito and im taking it back to the hotel anyway

im scared maybe we should talk later

_**Damien**_ : um i should be home anywhere from 1am to 3am

okay I'll stay up and wait

and then we can cuddle when you get home

_**Damien**_ : if you want too

I won't need to be scared once you're back

_**Damien**_ : you dont have to be scared now

I just took a shower and I haven't been able to breathe for about an hour now

its pretty scary

_**Damien**_ : just answer the phone. You dont have to talk. I will

okay but I'm freaking out right now. Don't take anything I say too seriously

_**Damien**_ : Okay im calling

My phone goes off again and I answer it immediately. 

I hold it up to my ear and take in a shaky breath. "H-Hi..." I murmur. 

"Hi. You're inside, right? And in a safe place?" Damien asks.

A part of me is a little relieved to at least hear his voice.

"Yeah, but..." I sigh deeply, "It doesn't feel s-safe."

 _At all_. 

I'm just stuck in this big house, not knowing where anything is. And being alone with a stranger. 

"You are safe. Just pretend I'm there. Get like one of my shirts or something. You said those help."

"I-I did. I s-stole your c-clothes." 

"Good," There's a bit of shuffling noises and then he comes back, "Take a deep breath."

"But I c-can't breathe. You're really m-missing the point h-here." 

I turn the phone to speaker and set it down so I can tug on my hair with both hands. 

Why does pain make things easier? 

"I just want y-you to c-come back." I tell him. 

"I'll be back soon. Maybe we can try breathing together. Like, when I say to _breathe in_ , you breathe in with me, and then when I say _breathe out_ , we breathe out? Yeah?"

"It's too h-hard. I... I can't." 

My chest hurts from trying. 

"I know you can, Josiah."

"It hurts..." I whine. 

He doesn't understand…! 

"You have too at some point. You’re better to do it now than later."

" _Okay_." I manage. 

I press my hand against my chest. My heart feels like it's trying to run away, or something... 

That, in addition to my lungs fucking burning... 

**I'm dying** . For sure. I can't tell Damien though. He would be _sad_. 

"Okay we're going to breathe in on three. Then exhale on a count of three again."

It's not going to do anything. 

Numbers won't trick me. 

"O-Okay..." I say again. 

"Okay. One, two, three." I hear him breathe in and I attempt to do the same. 

**_I can't_ **. 

He does it a few more times and I try to follow along, but my mind won't stop reminding me that he's not here and he can't help. 

"Damien." I stop him shakily. I rub my eyes hard enough to make it hurt. "It doesn't h-help. I-I'm dying." 

I must be. _Fear_ doesn't explain **_this_ **. 

"You're not _dying_ , Josiah."

"But it hurts! I-I don't know...what's g-going on. It's b-been over an hour and I d-don't know what t-to do anymore." 

I knew he wouldn't accept it... 

"I think m-my body is giving up. I don't think it c-can b-breathe anymore." I say. 

"Just relax. What helps you calm down? There has to be something..."

I clutch on to the front of the shirt. 

Fuck. I miss him. 

**I'm dying**. 

" **_I’m dying_ **. I have n-never once c-calmed down." I claim. 

It's just constant. 

Because my body is trying to give up and kill me so everything will be over.

"Well, calm enough to breathe. That's what we're working on."

"I just n-need you here. P-Playing music, and giving h-hugs, and..." 

I imagine that we're on the couch hugging and he's just softly singing to me... 

For a second, it's pleasant. Then I process that he's not here. 

"D-Dammit." I mutter. 

"...Yeah?"

"I miss y-you. I...I want to..." I stammer, "Damien. It won't g-go away." 

That fucking burning in my lungs...

"I wish I was there. Or that I could do anything over the phone...! I'm really sorry, Josiah... There's nothing I can try, or...?"

He really wants to help...?

"S-Sing?" I ask softly. 

"Really? Uh… Okay. Sing what?" He asks.

"I don't know!" I can't think of anything right now. 

Anything I think of turns into _this is punishment because you're bad. Now you're dying. This is what you get_. 

"Okay." He starts singing something quietly.

I try to stop and just listen to him. 

If I could focus on him, everything would be okay...

I squeeze my eyes shut and start rocking a bit. 

After around a minute, I start to catch my breath at least somewhat. 

I cross my arms to keep myself from pulling my hair, because he would be mad if he was actually here. 

"Damien..." I stop him. 

"Yeah?"

"Are you m-mad at me?" I ask weakly. 

"No. I'm not mad at you. Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I'm h-hiding, and n-not eating, and pulling my hair, and I-I don't trust Pierre, and...and... I k-keep wasting y-your time." 

The list is endless, and upsetting. 

**_I don't listen_ **. 

"Hey, slow down. It's okay. I really wish you would eat, and I don't expect you to trust Pierre right away. But I love you no matter what you do. I wish you would do those things, but I’m not mad."

"But you should w-want to punish m-me..." I mumble. 

If he wants me to do things, then there has to be consequences 

I don't listen to people. I only respond to physical punishment. 

"No. You do not deserve punishment. No matter what you think or what people have told you."

"But then I don't listen." I say.

"You're your own person. I can't make you do anything."

No, I'm not.

I belong to him right now.

"I s-said something bad again." I acknowledge. 

When he starts lying to me, that's how I know. 

"I just wish you were eating," He admits, "That scares me."

"Why? The weirdest thing s-scare you..." And that's coming from me. I'm afraid of people knocking on a damn door. 

Everything about my life scares him. 

"You not being safe scares me. Because I love you so much."

"That doesn't make me _not safe_." 

"Yes, it does."

"No. You just think everything is t-too dangerous for m-me." 

"I just don't want to lose you."

"But things I've been doing for m-my whole life won't make y-you lose me." I point out. 

After all, I'm almost seventeen years old. I know I'll be fine. I'm careful. 

"They can. And any risk of losing you is too big of a risk for me."

" _They_ **_can't_ **." I correct sharply. 

Not as long as I'm careful. 

Not as long as I don't want them to. 

" **_They can_ ** , **Josiah**."

"I don't like your voice when you're mad." 

When he's serious...it's so _weird_. 

"I'm not _mad_ . I'm **_worried_ **. What does it sound like?"

"You s-sound like my dad scolding me. Then he starts yelling. That's why I-I always think you're going to yell." I murmur. 

It's horrifying. But if he started yelling, I could just hang up like this. 

Then he would be mad later. 

**_Really mad_ **...

"I won't yell at you," He sighs, "I wish I could hug you."

"I know," I grab my phone and get off the floor, "I'm sorry for making you upset." 

He was having fun, playing with dogs, and...flirting with women... 

I ruined his whole life. 

"I’m not upset. I like talking to you, believe it or not."

I go into the bedroom and drop down onto his bed. I want to say I've never seen him in this bed, but to be fair, I really haven't seen anything in a long time. 

It smells like him, though. 

"But I just talk about bad things." I point out to him. 

I think I'll sleep here tonight. That way I'll actually get some sleep and I can stay up tomorrow night and wait for him.

"Not always. Sometimes, we talk about dogs. And cookies. And dogs named _Cookie_."

" _Always_ when we talk about me." I lay down, curling up a bit. 

"Not when we talk about how cute you are."

"Yes, even then. Because I start crying because no one calls me _cute_." 

All of my life, people just tell me over and over again that I only exist to ruin lives. To make things worse for people. 

_That I'm weak. I can't do anything. I'll never succeed because I don't listen and I talk back. I need help with everything. I need to be controlled_. 

Then Damien calls me **_cute_ **. And that's the thing that fucks me up somehow. 

"Well. Don't cry, but you're so cute. But not as cute as me."

"I...I want to be the c-cutest. If I was, m-maybe things would be different..." I run my fingers over a blanket, which is unexpectedly soft, "Did you know that p-people finding babies cute is biological, s-so they don't k-kill them?" 

"Oh. I was just segwaying into the fact that I'm now the proud owner of purple headphones with cat ears on them. But you are the cutest, and that fact is horrifying."

"Oh. I bet you look dumb." I rub my eyes again. 

I left my glasses in the bathroom...

Oh well. 

"I left my earbuds at home somehow. They're on my bedside table. But anyway, it was 3:00 a.m. and nothing was open except this one store and it was the only headphones they had."

"That's sad." I say. 

Fuck, this blanket is soft. 

"Meh. It's kinda funny."

"Is it?" 

My heart has started to calm down... I just feel really tired. 

"I think it is. Bro, you should see this hotel...." He rambles, as he eats something.

"What's it like?" I ask him.

"Well. It has super tall white ceilings, and expensive as fuck everything. And the building is huge. After my food, I'm going to explore it."

"Oh. Take me with you and tell me about it." 

I don't want him to hang up. 

As soon as he hangs up, I'll start dying again. 

"I can."

"Please." I yawn, pulling that soft blanket to me. 

It smells like him, too. 

"Your bed smells like you..." I inform him. 

"It would be weird if it smelled like someone else

Oh. 

**Ow**. 

That wouldn't be weird. It would be horrifying. 

"You don't sleep, though." I remind him. 

"I contemplate life in it. And sometimes nap. And I used to sleep. Really well."

 _Used to_...? 

Not since I've known him. 

"Okay. Do you ever wash your sheets?" I ask. 

"Ummm. I don't know...? I'm sure Pierre has at some point."

That explains it. 

I snuggle up under blankets. 

"It's warm..." I add. 

"I'm glad. I wish I was sleeping...maybe I'll try to take a nap."

Maybe I'll try to take a nap too...

I close my eyes. "Are you tired?" 

"Very. I'm laying down now."

"Okay. Keep talking. Or singing." I sigh. 

If I can just pretend he's here...

"Okay." He starts singing soothingly again.

If only I could actually feel him... 

All of my other senses are tricked, though. 

I fall asleep soon after. 

...

Pierre woke me up a short while later.

My first instinct was to tell him to _fuck off_ , but then I heard glorious words from him;

“I ordered a pizza.”

I didn’t even care that it was a manipulation tactic, or that I promised myself I wouldn’t eat. I want pizza.

I fucking love pizza.

So, he successfully tricked me into coming downstairs...with his help, of course. Because Damien is an ass about the stairs. 

I didn’t want to talk to him. I just wanted to eat some pizza but he started telling me stories of things that happened when he was a kid. I got too interested.

Now, a while has passed since the pepperoni pizza was already gone. It’s been maybe...half an hour?

We’re just talking.

I kind of hate it because I don’t trust him, but it’s also slightly soothing. Just having someone talk to me. 

And not particularly needing to respond or pay attention. 

I don’t know...

It’s kind of nice. I could get used to it, I think.

I could get used to Pierre…

That’s odd to think about.

I’m still afraid of him, but to be fair, I’m still afraid of Damien.

I think I can survive with Pierre until Damien gets back, though. 

I just wish I knew how to survive alone.

End


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Sunday, October 31st-

Saturday was uneventful, other than talking to Josiah and attempting to calm him down, and wandering around the city.

Right.

I hope he’s doing better than he was.

He sounded so scared.

He ended up falling asleep after a while, and once he was silent for about a half an hour, I hung up the call.

My parents return about an hour before we have to leave for the meeting.

My dad has put on a suit, and my mother a dress. I dress up, too, putting on my black dress shirt, and suit jacket, ditching a tie.

It’s really hot to be in a suit, but I'll survive.

I put my holster on my belt and make sure I have my gun loaded.

I put my knife on the other side and my jacket conceals them well.

I leave my room once I'm done, and my mom nods to me. 

“You have your weapons?” She asks.

“Yeah. What will this meeting be exactly?”

My dad, who is sitting on the couch slipping his shoes on explains, “It’s just a routine for our new customers. Whenever we get a new big buyer such as this, we make sure to do a final, in person meeting to look over all of the first shipment details. After that we continue things over phone and email, as necessary. This is a pretty standard meeting it shouldn't take long. An hour at most.”

I nod.

The only actual meeting I’ve been to is the one we had at home, and that was with our people.

From what I understand, we're finalizing an order.

Dad seems to make it out to be an easy thing.

So I take a deep breath and try to relax.

Focus on how relaxed he is.

He knows what he's doing.

I trust him.

Mom...is a loose cannon.

But I still trust her.

And I've been training at least twice a week since I was fourteen, and that's just the official training. That doesn't include the fact that as soon as I could walk they were training me as much as they could.

I'm a weapon.

I'm a threat.

I've got this.

Do what I was taught.

Be quiet and ready for anything.

We load into the car that picked us up from the plane.

The security team comes with us, and even though I have my weapon, this makes me feel better.

"You brought the kid?" The annoying asshole in the passenger seat asks them.

I roll my eyes, and before I can break his kneecaps, my dad laughs and says, "Gotta train him somehow."

He flashes the jaded man in the passenger seat a signature  _ Cohen  _ smile.

I know this look.

It's one I use to get in a girls’ pants.

It's one I use to flirt with strangers.

One I use to get out of bad situations.

It's one I use mostly on accident.

It's a mask. 

A tool.

An asset.

It's a smile I can turn on in an instant and remove just as quickly.

Because as nice as it is, it's not genuine. 

Those are reserved for Josiah.

And  _ no one else. _

I turn and watch out the window.

We end up driving about a half hour out.

We take nine lefts, get on and off on one highway.

Entrance and one exit, and we take thirteen rights.

I memorize road names as we go. This is a habit I've had since I was a little.

My parents took me on car rides and would quiz me.

Make it a game.

**A test.**

And, God, I've always been eager to please.

Ever since day one, really.

I've always been a soldier.

Ready to take orders, and ready to give them if need be.

The car pulls up at a nondescript unmarked  _ office-like _ building in the middle of nowhere.

Seems like any sort of office, and I'm surprised it's not like a shady abandoned warehouse or something.

But this looks like it could be a dentist or an insurance agency.

We get out and the annoying passenger leads us inside.

He takes us down office corridors and through cubicles into a back room.

He leads us down some stairs and we end up in a really big  _ lair  _ looking place, that’s usually used for storage, but is now used for  **_bad guy things_ ** .

There we go. That's more like it.

How fucking  _ cliche _ can you be?

It's like they have a neon sign that reads  _ we're the bad guys _ !

It's almost comical.

I contemplate saying this to dad but he seems like he's less  _ charming _ ,  _ fun loving _ dad and more  _ scary business mode  _ dad.

We're seated across from a big desk and the squeamish asshole I refer to as  _ the passenger seat man _ in my head, says, "The boss will be here shortly." 

He leaves, but the bodyguard doesn't.

Our guards look stoic and I can’t imagine how boring security work would be. Just standing there…

I’m over this.

A few minutes pass, and my dad looks on edge.

And then a few minutes more…

And a few more.

Something’s  **wrong** .

I put my hand in my gun, and that’s enough to get the bodyguards attention.

He immediately pulls his gun, pointing it at my head.

**_FUCK_ ** ...

Instantly, my mom and dad are standing, guns in hand.

No one moves.

No one breathes.

Before I know it, someone shoots first, and my dad pulls me down, the three of us crouched down behind the big desk.

My mom looks over the desk, and shoots at the security team.

I look back and see one of our guys, laying in a pool of blood…

His eyes glazed over.

**Dead** .

I don't think I like this job very much…

I stare at the blood and my dad yells at me.

“Damien! We have to  **go** !” He grabs my arm and pulls me up, dragging me behind him.

I pull my gun, not sure what else I can do…

Everything is  _ so loud _ all the sudden…

I follow after my mom and dad, and look behind me.

Our security guys stayed back to fight…

Why are we running?

We run down the hallway to the stairs leading out of here, when we’re met by a group of four men, with really big guns.

My mom shoots one immediately, and my instinct takes over.

The one is  _ really _ close…

I shoot him in the leg, making him stagger to the ground.

I then shoot another in the shoulder, making him drop his gun.

I’m only hurting them…

I was always taught to  **shoot to kill…**

They’re all either dead, or the one’s I wounded…

My mom runs up to the one and shoots him in the chest.

I try to look away, but I can’t .

I watch his face instead.

And I wonder if he had a family? If this is just a job for him…

My body takes over and I go up to the man I shot in the leg.

I hold my gun with both hands, and I hold it aimed at his head….

My hands start shaking,

And I freeze.

I can’t do this. I…

He looks up at me, and I…

I stare at him, knowing full well he would kill me if this was the other way around.

If I was on the floor, I would be  _ dead _ .

But…

“ _ Do it, Damien!” _ My mom snaps, “ **We don’t have time for this** .”

I don’t take my eyes off the guy, who’s pleading with me with his expression.

“I can’t…” I start.

I hear a gun go off, and I jump, and thankfully it’s not the one in my hands.

I turn and see my mom shot him.

Right in the head.

He’s  **dead** .

“Mom, I…” I start.

“ **Shut up** and follow me.” She says, leading the way.

I turn to look at Dad, and he looks...disappointed.

I let them down…

_ They’ll never trust me again. _

…

As soon as we get back to the hotel, and my mom slams the door behind us, I know I’m in for a great time.

“What the  **fuck** was that, Damien?! You choked up. I know for a fact that’s  **_not_ ** how your father taught you!”

I take my holster off and throw it on the couch, wanting it as far from me as it can get. “You didn’t say we were going to have to  **kill people!** It was just a  _ meeting _ …!” I run a hand through my hair, trying not to think about the events of this evening.

“You know that every single job we walk into, we have the chance that could happen! Your hesitation could have gotten us killed!”

My dad puts a hand on my mother’s arm. “He’s still young, if we just give him time….”

“ _ Time _ !?” She yells, turning toward dad, “You think he’s going to change?! He’s been  **weak** since day one, and you constantly  _ coddling him _ isn’t going to make him  **grow up** !”

She spins back around to face me again, and my chest constricts.

Not now…

I have to stay calm until she’s done.

“You’re staying in the hotel until we leave tomorrow night! Clearly, we can’t trust you to handle  _ anything _ yet.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” I mutter, before I can stop myself.

“ **_Big deal_ ** ?! You could have died, Damien! Or  **_we_ ** could have died! You have to start thinking about your family, instead of  _ yourself _ for five fucking seconds! I can’t stand to look at you. Go to your room!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I mutter, slamming the door behind me.

If she’s going to treat me like a child then I’ll fucking act like one.

I sit out on the balcony, and finally process what just happened.

I had a gun to his head…

I could have killed someone.

I was... **_supposed_ ** _ to kill someone _ .

God... I don’t…

I can’t be here anymore.

Maybe I could book a flight home. I have enough money, and then I could get Josiah and we could leave forever, and…

I pull my knees to my chest and feel tears fall down my face.

That guy was someone’s son.

I could have killed someone’s husband, or father, or…

**Fuck** .

My head starts pounding, and quickly the more I panic, the more intense the pain gets, going from a dull ache to a splitting pain at the base of my skull.

My hands shake as I put a hand on each side of my head.

I can’t stay here anymore.

I can’t be a part of this…

This  _ family  _ anymore.

I try my best to hold back a sob. I don’t want them to hear me.

They already think I’m  **weak** .

I pull my phone out of my pocket with shaky hands, and I call Josiah.

He answers within seconds, “Hello?”

“Josiah? I’m sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call and I’m really freaking out and I think I’m going to run away and fly home early and then we can leave and never come back and…”

I can’t breathe, oh my god...

I manage a shuddering breath.

“You’re the one who said  _ no _ to that, though…?” 

“I know, but it’s... _ different now _ .”

If he knew…

“I shouldn’t have called.” I can’t tell him. It’s not safe.

If my parents knew that he knew what we were…

“Yeah, I hope it’s  **_different_ ** . Don’t hang up. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t…” I hold back a sob, putting a hand over my mouth.

“ **What** ? Are you okay…?”

“I’m not. I can’t do this anymore.” I cry, not giving a shit if they hear me.

They think I’m weak anyway, so why bother?

“ _ Can’t do  _ **_what_ ** ? Do I need to take the phone to Pierre?”

“No! Don’t!”

If Pierre, or anyone finds out what I almost did…

“I’m a really,  **really** bad person, Josiah.”

“You’re not  _ a really,  _ **_really_ ** _ bad person _ . You’re a slightly bad person, just like anyone else.” 

“No.  **You don’t get it.** I deserve what’s coming for me. I deserve to burn in hell, just like she says… I’m sorry. For all of this bullshit and I’m sorry for... _ the way I am _ .”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but don’t apologize. You don’t have anything to apologize to me for...besides not actually telling me what the hell is going on.” 

“I can’t tell you.” I say quietly.

He wouldn’t love me anymore if he knew.

“You sound like me. What’s going on? I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“If… If I told you, you would be in danger. We can’t stay with my parents anymore… I can’t do this.”

“Are they being mean…?”

“You could say that.” I laugh bitterly through my tears.

_ Mean _ is an understatement.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore.” I admit, looking out at the city through teary eyes.

How easy it would be to stand up and just fall off the edge…

“I don’t know. Come home and act like whatever happened didn’t happen and make it go away.” He suggests.

“I’ve been acting like nothing’s happend my whole fucking life!” I reach out and grab onto the railing, pulling myself up.

I lean against it.

The railing only comes up to my waist, I could so, so easily just…

“I love you.” I say, shutting my eyes, trying not to think about falling off of this building…

Of jumping off of this building.

“I love you, too. It’s weird not having you around. Tomorrow will be nice, once we can just cuddle again.”

“Yeah.” I say, not listening.

I open my eyes again and lean out over the edge, much farther than safe.

I should just do it…

**I should let go** …

“Make sure to text me before you leave. Hey… What are you doing?”

Before I can stop myself, I say, “Hanging out over the edge of my balcony… _ contemplating _ …  **things** .”

“What?! Why the hell…? Damien,  **go inside** . What’s wrong with you?!” 

“I can’t.”

I can’t move...

I can’t breathe…

**_I give up_ ** .

“ _Give up_ on **_what_** …? Damien… What’s going on? Come on. Go inside and tell me what’s up.” 

He sounds upset.

I snap my eyes open and realize what I’m doing.

Shit…

I throw myself back against the wall, as far from the edge as I can.

“Josiah,  _ I’m sorry _ ,” I start crying, “I’m...going inside.”

“Okay. Don’t do that again. Be careful.  **Please** . I need you.”

“I...I need you, too.” I say, going into my room and shutting the door behind me.

I sit on the bed.

What am I going to do?

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” I say, still crying.

I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I wish you were here.”

“I can’t help you. Tell me everything. Please. I don’t like not knowing what you’re doing like this;  **What’s wrong** ?” 

“I have to keep you safe…”

“I haven’t been safe for one day in my whole life. Just tell me.” 

“I… It won't help anyway.”

“Maybe. But you can tell me anything and you need to know that. I don’t like how one-sided everything is. I’m here for you, Damien.”

“I almost  **killed** someone.”

“ _ You _ … What? Are you serious?”

“My parents aren’t in stocks.” I say through tears, being careful to be quiet.

I turn the TV on in my room just to be safe.

“Yeah. I know that.” 

“...Josiah, they  **kill people,** and I had a gun in my hand and he was unarmed, and they wanted me to kill him… I can’t…” I start hyperventilating, “I can't breathe…”

“ _ You had a  _ **_gun_ ** ? Damien… Hey. Don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything, right?” 

“No, but I almost did. They’ve been training me since I was born to take over their stupid business and to do what they do. And I can’t. I won’t hurt people like that.”

“What part of not wanting to hurt people makes you a bad person? Why did you say you were a  **_bad_ ** person?”

“Killing yourself is a  **sin** . And that’s all I think about other than the fact that I almost killed someone else.”

“You’re not going to do that, though. And good people do... _ it _ ...all the time. It doesn’t define anyone. Especially not you, because you’re not going to do  _ it _ .”

I put my headphones on so I don’t have to keep holding the phone

“That’s not what my mom says. Or the bible says. It’s a sin...”

“I don’t even care to learn what you think that means. This is more serious than a dumb book. This is people’s lives;  **Good people** . It doesn’t make someone  _ bad _ .” 

“Why are you so sure…that I won’t…”

I shouldn’t be talking about this.

I don’t want to scare him.

“I won’t let you.” He replies softly.

“It’s not always your choice.”

“No, I know that. But you need to realize what losing you would do to me. I...I would have to go back home, Damien. And there’s  **never** been anything harder for me than being away from you.”

I curl into a ball and pull the blanket over me. “...I can’t make it stop. I can’t stop this. I...I might not have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. It’s  **your** life.” 

“No, it’s not! It’s everyone’s  _ but _ mine! I can't even decide if I want to die now...!”

I take a shaky breath in, “I’m sorry for yelling. I’m just really  **scared** .”

“I know. I understand. You’re okay… You’re horribly wrong, but you’re okay.” 

“I...I love you. And I’m going to get a handle on this. I’m sorry.” I say again for the billionth time.

I can’t keep scaring him like this.

“I love you, too. Maybe you should talk to professionals about this.” 

... _ Professionals _ ?

“What do you  _ mean _ ?”

“A psychologist...or, maybe a police officer. Might be good.”

“I’m not crazy. They’re for crazy people. And I couldn’t ever go to the police… Josiah, I’m an accomplice…”

“It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything. You were just a kid.” 

“Not yet. But I almost killed someone, and I’ve known about this my whole life. I could have told and I haven’t.”

“It wouldn’t matter. Up until recently, you were a minor and you can’t be charged for that.”

“No. I’m not telling. And you can’t, either. They’re my  _ family _ … I love them.”

“They’re killing people, Damien. In what world is that okay?”

“Only when they get in the way. They mostly just deal drugs and ammunition and stuff.” I sigh.

“That shit kills people. You know that.”

“You can't tell. At least, not yet. Not until we’re out.”

“I won’t. As long as you at least  **try** to stay safe throughout all of this.” 

“I’m trying. It’s just like slowly building up. All of this. I don’t know if I can  _ make it to graduation anymore _ .”

That was the goal…

_ The plan _ .

Make it to graduation.

“Yes, you can. And if it means turning your parents in, then you need to consider it. Because you need to be safe.”

“No. I won’t… **_Family comes first_**.” I say, reciting the mantra instilled in me since I could talk.

“That’s hypocritical as hell. What if I stayed with my dad? When you tried to take me away?”

“That’s different and you know it. My parents aren’t  **hurting** me.”

“They are if they’re doing this to you. There is no difference. You’re just being a dumb-ass and not listening to me.”

“ _ Don’t call me that _ .” I say in a low tone.

“Then stop being that.”

I want to call him something mean back, but I hold my tongue for once tonight.

“I’m  **not** doing it. Not now. And not for a long fucking time.”

“Why not?”

“Because. I love them!” I say, crying again, “They’re all I have! I can’t lose them.”

For all the shit they’ve done, they're my parents. And my dad really does mean well.

"We were planning to leave them anyway, though. Unless everything we planned was a lie." 

No...

"Not lies. I just... Can’t we please talk about something else?" I beg him.

Something that won’t make it hard to breathe.

Something that isn't just abandoning all I've been taught.

"I don't know how to. This is scary." He says. 

"It’s really scary..." I agree, sighing, "I really wish you were here."

"Why? I can't do anything to help you.”

"No. You do help. You make me less scared."

When I'm holding him and he falls asleep against my chest...

It’s like I can do anything for him.

"Liar. I don't do anything. You're the helpful one. I just make things worse." 

"No. You make me happy,” I yawn, “And you make me think less. So I can actually sleep."

"Are you sure?" 

"Very sure. You're the only reason I'm still alive." I admit to him, trying not to start crying again. I just stopped.

"I don't believe that. You're okay. With or without anyone else… Everything is okay." 

"Everything's okay?" I ask him again.

I just need to hear it.

"Yeah." 

"Okay.  _ Everything's okay _ ." I confirm.

It’s not... But...maybe it can be.

"I'm so tired."

"What time is it there?" 

"Just one."

"Bedtime. Goodnight. Love you." 

"Wait. Don’t go."

"I have to go so you can sleep."

"If you leave, I won't sleep... Can’t you stay? Just until I fall asleep?"

I need a drink...

But there's no way I can get out today. Not with my parents sleeping right beside me.

"Okay...but I just make you talk. And you don't usually sleep and talk at the same time."

"Yeah. I guess so. I just don't want to be alone."

"You're alone anyway." He mumbles. 

"Yeah..." I say, since I was hoping we could pretend… "Goodnight then, Josiah."

"Hey, before you go... Um... Pierre is really nice. I'm sorry for complaining so much. I just can't be without you. It's scary. I love you a lot." 

"It's okay. I'm glad you're doing a little better with him. I love you, too. I'll text before we fly out tomorrow."

He says _ I love you  _ again before I hang up on him.

I haven't felt this alone in a really long time...

...

I end up falling asleep around 4 a.m., after much more existential dread.

I don't bother setting an alarm. I’m not allowed to go anywhere anyway.

I pass the time by watching TV and just trying to relax. Wishing I was home. With Josiah.

Around 3:00, I get really anxious and tired of sitting around.

So, I find the nearest store and get a bottle of whiskey.

I take it back to the room and have a few drinks, storing the rest in my duffle bag.

I can’t get drunk or anything. I still have to fly back.

But I can take the edge off at least.

...

My parents get back at 10:00 p.m.

"Pack up. We're leaving,” My dad says, "We fixed what happened yesterday."

I stand up. “Are they buying?" I ask.

"No." Is all my mother says.

I don’t want to know the implications behind that...

I remember what Josiah said about them killing people and how bad that was.

_ Maybe he wasn't so wrong. _

...

We get home by 3:00 a.m.

I carry my bag upstairs and drop it on the floor in my room.

I yawn, and to my surprise, I see a figure in my bed.

"Josiah. I’m home." I say, going to the bed and crouching down beside him.

I wish I could just curl up against him and...

No.

He was very adamant about no touching on the bed.

He stirs and murmurs, “Damien...?"

"Yeah. I'll go stay in the guest room. I just wanted to let you know I’m home."

" **No** .  _ C'mere _ !  **_Cuddles_ ** ." He says. 

"...Are you sure...?"

He looks so small in my bed...and...and in my shirt.

He's so cute, all I want to do is curl up against him...

"I miss you." He replies, half asleep.

I crawl into bed beside him.

"Cuddles?" I ask him softly.

He instantly snuggles himself up against my chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me. 

I hug him close and rest my chin on his head, breathing deeply.

"I love you." I say softly, kissing him on the top of his head.

"Love you more..." He mumbles sleepily. 

This is right. This is where I belong.

I curl up to him and shut my eyes, feeling like maybe everything will be okay...

End


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Josiah's P.O.V. 

-Monday, November 1st- 

I wake up feeling a lot warmer than usual.

Last thing I remember, I was waiting for Damien to come home...and I fell asleep. The one thing I told myself I wouldn't do. 

I go to sit upright, before realizing that I'm trapped. 

What...? 

I feel strong arms around me, holding me down and against someone. 

My first instinct is to scream, so I do. I scream, but I don't try to pull away, because I know how much pulling away gets me into trouble. 

Not that screaming doesn't, but still… It’s not the same. 

My eyes fill with tears.

I can't move...

"What the fuck...?" Damien says, and he lets me go.

Damien...?

It’s him.

He...

I sit upright abruptly, starting to dig my fingernails into my arms. 

I look at him and try to speak, but nothing comes out. 

I can't breathe... I can't think.

I can't comprehend what's happening. 

"Let go of your arm, Josiah." He says in his serious tone.

I press harder and stare in his direction blankly. "I-I..." I begin, unable to continue.

Fuck.

What the fuck is going on? Why did he do that to me? 

What happened?! 

My mind desperately tries to pull me away from the situation, but I try to at least focus enough to hear him and be aware of where he is. Since we're in a bed together.

"Please." He says, shifting away.

I want to ask him what he was doing to me... Why he was touching me. 

I felt so suffocated. I still do. 

He says something else, but my brain decides to not process it and to go into shut down mode instead. 

Terror controls my entire body. 

I can't do anything. 

It feels like hours before my mind catches up, and I realize I broke through skin. I pull my hair instead. That one is safer.

"...Why d-did y-you...touch m-me?" I stammer. 

When did he get home...? 

"You said I could! Last night!"

I don't remember that...

I don't even remember laying down. 

"I-I...did?" I ask weakly. 

"Yes. You said you missed me and to come cuddle you. "

Yeah... Sounds like me. 

"I w-was wrong." 

I don't like bed cuddles. 

There's certain things strictly associated with sex according to my mind. Being in bed together… I can't do that.

"You didn't miss me? And please let go of your hair."

"No... No b-bed c-cuddles.  **_Bad_ ** .  _ D-Don't touch _ ." I manage. 

**_Don't touch me_ ** ...

"What's...wrong w-with you?!" I glare at him.

"I wouldn't have done it if you didn't say it was okay!" He says, getting out of the bed.

I back up, pressing myself against the headboard. 

I instantly remember one time when I tried to get away and my dad bashed my head against the headboard of his bed. 

It plays in my head and it feels so real, like it just happened.

I stare wide-eyed at Damien. "S-Stay away from m-me!" I snap at him, even though I'm pretty sure he isn't even in arms reach of me at all. 

"Okay! God! I'm like ten feet from you. I’m sorry!"

My whole body is shaking like crazy and everything hurts, and my mind just keeps replaying all the awful things that have come from being in a bed with someone. 

"Asshole." I mutter, dragging my nails against my scalp and tugging harder on my hair. 

Fuck... 

_ Make the memories go away _ .  **_Please_ ** . 

"I didn't do anything! Don't call me that!" He snaps.

I wince at his tone. 

"N-Not you, dumb-ass." I reply sharply. 

I want to go sit in a closet and knock my head against the wall until I pass out...

I want out of here.

I want out of everything. I want an escape.

"Don't call me that either! I’m not a fucking mind reader! You can't say something's fine and then expect me to know it actually isn't fine!"

Nothing's fine. 

"Are you m-mad? D-Did I make y-you angry?" 

"A little. Yeah."

He sounds pissed.

"Hit me." I say.

"What the fuck?! No!"

"Hurt m-me... I need p-punished now. R-Right now." I can't hurt myself enough. Not here. 

He's mad. He should do something.

He's allowed to do anything to me. I don't have the right to scream and tell him to stop.

I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the pain. "I...I c-can't tell y-you  _ no _ . The rules... I'm b-bad." 

"I'm not going to hurt you! I love you. Why the hell would I hurt you?!" I hear him begin walking back and forth, pacing.

I bite my hand, trying to shut myself up before I make things worse. 

I always make things worse. 

I need  _ punished _ . 

"B-Because...I can't s-say  _ no _ . I'm n-not allowed t-to..." 

I can't make him feel bad for things he's allowed to do. 

I remember my dad reminding me that my body isn't mine... That everyone should have control over me and I'm bad for whining. 

"S-Stop s-screaming and take it..." I remind myself quietly. 

"Okay. Fine. But you can say  _ no _ . You just did. Saying  _ no  _ is fine."

It's not. I should get hit. 

"I-I'm not...allowed." I repeat.

"You are with me."

" **I'm not** . Hit m-me when I-I s-scream." I tell him. 

_ Maybe it'll make me stop. _

_ Maybe I'll shut up.  _

**_Stop screaming and take it_ ** _... _

"No. I won't. I'll never hit you."

"Please. I d-don't wanna have t-to..."

I don't want to have to punish myself. 

I hate it. It hurts differently. 

"You don't  _ need punished _ . What will it take for you to see that?"

I drop my hands and rock back and forth slightly. "Y-You s-said you were m-mad." I remind him. 

"Just a little bit."

"Then... Then h-hit me  _ just a little bit _ ." I argue. 

I don't like when he lies.

Feeling comfortable when I shouldn't and being given false hope... That's horrifying. 

"No. Even if I’m mad, that's no reason to hit you. Give it up. I won't."

I'll never give it up. I know he's just trying to make me stop freaking out. 

He doesn't mean it. He'll do something eventually. 

"W-Why the hell not?" I question. 

"Because you shouldn't hit the people you love."

"That d-doesn't make s-sense..." 

How the fuck does he think people get others to listen? 

When it's someone like me... 

“Dad s-said...” I choke back a sob, “I only r-respond t-to physical p-punishment.” 

_ Always _ .

Because mom said I don’t listen, so dad would hit me to teach me. Mom hated that he did it, but she didn’t stop him. Because she knew, too. 

She knew I was bad. 

"I don't care what your  _ dad _ says."

That’s one of his biggest issues. He doesn’t listen either...and he doesn’t care.

“You should.” I tell him.

"He's not my dad. I don’t give a flying fuck about him or what he says."

...I’ll never get through to him.

“Okay.” I sigh.

I rub my head. It hurts.

I want to go back to sleep, but…

Wait…

It’s Monday.

“What time is it?” I ask.

"It's 7:38. I have to go get ready."

I’m about to make what might be the worst decision in my life…

“I don’t want to go.” I say.

"Do you want to skip?" He asks, sounding surprised.

Fuck no. I don’t want to.

“I c-can’t breathe.  **No** , but… I don’t know what to do.” 

"Let’s quit fighting, and just take a day off. We'll be fine. You won't get behind from just one day off."

Especially considering I’m over a year  _ ahead _ .

“I won’t get in trouble?”

He laughs, "You think that school cares about us?"

“No...but once I missed a c-couple days and everyone got r-really mad.” 

"A couple days is different. If so, I'll handle it. Okay?"

I don’t like him  **_handling_ ** _ things _ .

He isn’t very good at it and it’d just be an added stressor.

“I’m going to go sleep in the other room.” I tell him.

I’m so tired. Trying to stay up for him was a bad idea.

"Okay. Sounds good. I'll be in here if you need me."

“All right… Is Pierre here still?” I ask him.

I can’t get up. I can barely breathe.

"No. He got the day off today and tomorrow since he house sat."

Damn…

“I’m gonna sleep, so...don’t come in.” 

"I won't. I might go to school… Unless you need me to stay?"

“I don’t.” 

I am...suddenly afraid of him.

Just for today, probably. But I am.

"Oh. Okay. I'm going to get ready, then...you can just stay in here. If you need to."

I drag myself out of the bed. 

Being here helped me when he was gone, but with him here...knowing what he could do… 

I know what he wants.

It’s scary.

“...That means I would be here alone.” I acknowledge.

"I can stay if you want me to, I just figured that since I wouldn't sleep anyway, I might as well go to school."

“No. I’m just thinking about how I can do whatever I want.”

I can panic and torture myself. No one can stop me.

"Yeah. Get some rest. I'll talk to you when I get home." He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

I go into the guest room.

I wonder if I should go around and search for secrets…?

If there’s no one here, then…

Do I want to know any more secrets, though?

After learning that his parents fucking kill people, I don’t know.

Why the hell does he say  **_my_ ** family life is _ fucked up _ when his is like **_this_ ** …?

That’s just weird. 

My dad isn’t that bad. He’s never killed anyone. He never would kill anyone. 

Same goes for my aunt, and Alexa and Avery…

Why aren’t I allowed to go home? I think it’s more _dangerous_ **_here_**. 

Where people kill people.

This isn’t right.

I lean against the door after shutting it.

Eventually… I’ll go home. Once something bad happens here. 

Until then…

I’m not sure what to do.

I don’t know if I’ll get punished here like I should be. Unless I keep pushing Damien’s buttons and figure out what it really is that makes him mad.

What could I do to really piss him off?

I need him to be angry enough to realize that sometimes, people need to be hit. People like me.

What can I use here to really punish myself…?

I go over and sit on the corner.

I should make two lists.

One for everything that will make Damien angry.

Another for all the ways I can hurt myself until then.

I scrape my nails up along my arm. 

I wish there was something more painful I could do to myself. 

I bring my knees up to my chest and drop my head.

It doesn’t matter right now.

I have all day to fuck myself up.

And I hope someone gets really pissed that I’m going to miss a day of school. I hope they beat the shit out of me.

That will be the end of it. I don’t have to worry about bad things I’ve done after I’ve already been punished. 

I sigh deeply.

Until then.

…

I spend all day in that corner, getting hungry around noon, but, of course, not doing anything about it.

I use the excuse that I can’t go downstairs or make food on my own.

It sounds fair enough. 

It reaches the end of the school day, and I decide to make it look like I’ve been doing stuff all day. 

Then Damien gets home. And I’ve made up a whole list of all the things I definitely got done.

Hopefully he knows I’m lying and gets mad.

I open the door, going over near the edge of the stairs.

“Damien?” I call down them.

It has to be him. The time lines up. And his parents are never home during the day.

They’re too busy killing people.

A moment passes with absolutely no response, so I yell for him again, “Damien!?”

"I'm making spaghetti. I forgot to pack lunch," He calls back from I'm assuming the kitchen, "Just come down here."

I look down at the steps.

Okay…

I go down slowly and carefully.

“How was school…?” I ask him as I go to the kitchen.

Ah. There he is.

"Bad without you there."

“That doesn’t make sense. We only have one class together.” I point out.

I go over and lean against the counter.

"And lunch. I had to go study in the library. I felt like such a nerd. How was your day?"

“You can’t be a nerd. That would be weird,” I chuckle, “I just kinda...took a nap, did some studying, ate some food. The usual.” I shrug.

Bullshit. I sat there for like eight hours, doing nothing.

I might have fallen asleep a few times, though. That part might be true.

"You ate? Did you come down and make something?"

No.

“Y...Yeah… I raided the fridge.” I smile at him.

"Good. I didn't even think about making you something before you left. Do you want some spaghetti? It's my favorite." He informs me.

“No. I ate already, so I don’t have to. I’m really sorry about this morning.”

"Okay. And I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled. Let's just forget about the whole thing."

“I can’t do that… I wanted to let you know that I know it was my fault and that you didn’t do anything wrong. I blamed you for a bit, and I’ve been thinking about it all day.” I tell him.

"...I should have known better. But it's fine."

“Don’t listen to me when I’m tired. It’s all nonsense. I feel like you should have probably made me just leave.” I look up at him.

"You looked so comfortable I couldn't bear it… Plus, I missed you so fucking much, I wasn’t thinking clearly."

“It’s okay. I just… My mind’s always worried about things being sexual. I’m trying to work on it and realize that you won’t do anything. It’s just that I know you want to.” 

"Yeah. But I won't do any of that until you say it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me making things...go that far. I slip up sometimes, but I’m really  _ trying _ ."

“Okay. I’ll try to trust you.”

We’re all just trying.

And we will forever. Because we’ll never figure this out.

"That means a lot to me. Thanks. Are we studying today?"

“We can if you want to. It never really goes well, though.” I remark.

"I mean, I have history homework to do. We don't have to do tutoring but maybe we can just study together?"

“What would that be…? Like, us sitting together quietly and just reading?” I question.

"I mean, yeah. But we don't have to do it all night."

“I would hope not. You should sleep.” I laugh.

"That would be nice. Don't move. I'm coming past you with the hot pan." He moves to the sink with the pot.

I watch carefully.

“What’s our next step in all the kissing things? What am I working toward next?” I ask.

"What do you mean  _ next step _ ?"

“Like… First was holding hands, then hugging, and kissing… Next is…? I’m trying to work up, but I’ve pretty much hit a wall. Next would be sex.” I guess.

But I don’t know about relationships. Or human interaction in general.

"We can maybe just work on you letting me touch you when we kiss? I won’t go like...under your clothes. Until you're ready. But like…a hand on your back. Or something." He grabs something from the fridge then goes back to the counter.

“I guess so. It just feels weird because it’s so direct and not at all something I’m used to. I’ve never been touched like that in a good way.” I try to reason this out.

"Yeah. We can try it and like I've said before, if it's too much, we can stop."

“Okay. Sometimes, being held feels suffocating, but other times, it’s alright. So maybe it’ll be a  _ sometimes  _ thing. And sometimes when we kiss it’s  _ no  _ and sometimes it’ll be  _ yes _ .” 

"Okay. It can be a  _ sometimes  _ thing." He puts his food on his plate and says, "Let's go upstairs. Are you sure you don't want anything?"

I really do…

I pull the black sleeves over my hands. 

“I’m sure.” I nod a bit.

"Okay." He says leading me upstairs.

He sits on the couch with his food and pulls his school backpack open, taking a book out. He's balancing the spaghetti plate and the book on his knee.

I sit on the other end of the couch, facing him with my knees up to my chest.

“What did you guys do in the classes today? Anything interesting?” I ask, picking at a scratch on my hand.

"It was the most boring day I've ever had. Not one cool thing."

“Have you seen Logan around? I haven’t heard him. He hasn’t approached me. Is he still at school…?” 

"Um. I bumped into him today and yelled at him a bit. Nothing physical. Just a  _ watch where you're going asshole _ sort of thing. "

“Wow. Don’t be mean.”

"It’s fucking  **Logan Haas** . I hate him."

“I know, but… He’s got a rough life. Don’t pick on him.”

Damien laughs. "Sure,  _ okay _ ."

“He’s just like Ethan and Hunter, and you… He just wants some sort of power at school. Because he can’t control anything at home.” I analyze.

I was somewhat the same way, too. 

I focused on school so much as an escape. 

My focus was on academics and theirs...is on being mean. But, still. Practically the same thing.

"Don't group me with them."

“You’ve been one of them for the past four years. You aren’t any different.” The only difference is he changed, and I don’t think I can feel confident in saying any of them will.

"Right.  _ I'm no different _ ." He says, sitting his plate on the coffee table.

“Pretty much. You wanted to feel powerful, just like them. Just like everyone else.”

"Don't  _ analyze _ me." He says, "Not that it matters. I'm just the  **same** as Ethan and Hunter still anyway."

“I analyze everyone…” I look over at him, realizing something, “But you’re right. You’re just the same as they are.”

He stands up. "I thought you said…that I was better. I was getting better for you. Do you...not think that anymore?" He sounds hurt.

Interesting…

“You’re getting better. They could get better, too. You and all of them have a lot in common. You hurt people.” I remind him.

"Not anymore! I don't hurt people anymore."

“Maybe you will.”

"I...I won't. I won't go back to that."

“Or  **_maybe you will_ ** . If someone makes you mad enough. Because it’s just a part of you.”

"Do you really think that?" He asks softly.

No. He changed, and he is getting better.

Something really awful would have to happen to make him go back to being a bully.

But he still can get mad and hurt  _ someone _ . 

“Of course. I’ve analyzed you. I know how you are. You’re a bully.” I tell him.

"I'm not. I'm not a bully anymore." He denies.

“You’re backing out of it too much. In your attempt to not be a bully, you’re becoming a pushover. Don’t let people talk to you like this. You’re a strong guy. You’re not  **_weak_ ** like you pretend to be.”

"Don't you fucking call me that." He growls darkly.

“Which thing?” I ask cautiously.

" **_Weak_ ** ."

“...You’re pretending to be weak so you don’t seem so scary. But I know you. I know you can be scary. If you would stop being  _ weak  _ and…” I stare at him.

Goddammit… What’s wrong with me?

He stares at me for a moment, and then leaves wordlessly, slamming the door behind him.

I flinch.

What the hell?

“Dumb-ass. It’s your room.” I mutter, laying back against the armrest of the couch. 

That was interesting. 

I’ll add it to the list.

If I could have just kept pushing, then…

I’ll get punished soon enough. 

End


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Monday, November 1st-

I slam the door behind me, not giving him the satisfaction of  _ hitting him.  _

I mean, I know that he’s had a fucked up childhood, and life until now, and we’re not even perfect…

But…

I could never hit him.

He makes me so fucking mad that sometimes I really want to yell at him…

And I do.

But I couldn’t ever hit him.

That’s fucked up.

But the way he’s been ever since I got home… I don’t know what is wrong with him, or what’s different. Or what he’s trying to accomplish…?

I don’t know. I’m too sober to think about this right now.

I go downstairs and then I hear Josiah leave my room.

Good.

My parents wouldn’t give a shit about me drinking, even if they were here, but it still feels like something I should hide.

I go to the liquor cabinet, and true to his word, Pierre put a lock on it.

I go to the junk drawer in the kitchen and dig around a bit until I find a paperclip.

This should be fine.

If all else fails, I have my I.D.

I could just go get some right now…

Even if I’m pissed at Josiah, I still shouldn’t leave him home alone.

I quickly pick the lock, and then take a few bottles, shuffling around the remaining few so it looks less empty…

I’m sure he knows what’s in there, but at first glance, it looks normal.

I then shut the lock again, taking the bottles upstairs.

I put two of them in my closet for later, and take the other two out onto the roof.

It’s become my quiet place.

My thinking place.

My  _ jump off this fucking building right now _ …place.

I start drinking and start panicking, and before I know it, my legs are dangling off the edge.

He called me  **_weak_ ** .

And if mom and him keep saying it… It must be true.

I can’t hurt people anymore.

It... _ hurts _ .

For lack of a better phrase.

I get about half way through the bottle, when a familiar car pulls into the driveway.

Immediately after parking, Pierre jumps out of the car and runs to the ground below.

“Damien! Get back inside right now.”

“You’re not my fucking dad, old man.” I yell back, almost dropping the bottle onto the ground.

Imagine if it hit him…

Ha. That would be funny.

“ **Damien** ! I’m coming up there! you could get hurt!” He looks conflicted to move.

“It’s only one story up! Quit whining. At the most, I break my legs. Besides, the door’s locked.”

“I have keys to almost all of the doors.” He points out.

Shit.

“Well, don’t come in. It’s locked for a reason. To keep you out!”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“I am a fucking child! You guys are all like  _ grow up, Damien _ , _ start killing people, Damien _ , _ hit me, Damien _ ! But no! I just want to be myself for three fucking seconds without all of you trying to tell me what to do and who I’m supposed to be! If you really cared, you wouldn’t be trying to control me! You’re just as bad as all of them, Pierre!”

Tears come to my eyes and I stand up, almost falling over the side.

I start laughing.

“That would be too easy.” I mutter.

“Don’t move! I’m coming up right now. Stay there!”

He sounds terrified.

**Good** .

A minute or two passes and I begin pacing the side of the roof, not caring if I fall or not.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Clearly, Josiah doesn’t want me around.

Because I’m _ weak _ . I let people walk all over me. But then, I’m mean to Logan, and I’m a bully.

I can’t be weak and a bully.

He’s the  _ dumb-ass _ here.

Not me.

Well…

I’m the dumb-ass, too.

Pierre and Josiah look at me from inside the window.

“Damien, come inside now!” Pierre says.

I flip them off.

“Josiah, I flipped you off. ‘Cause you’re blind… Wait. Not cause you're blind, because I'm mad at you. I told you because you’re blind.”

“Whatever, dumb-ass. Get inside. What the hell are you doing?” He asks.

I point at him accusingly. “No. You know what? What I said means something, okay?! Well. What I  _ thought  _ means something. You can’t go around calling me  _ weak  _ and a  _ doormat  _ and then all the sudden be all worried about fucking  **Logan Haas.** The guy who bullied you your whole goddamn life! As if you should give a shit about him! I just called him a pussy! That’s it! What’s so wrong with that, huh!? I’m not  **wrong** ! And then you sit there and call me a bully.  **You’re the bully** . I changed for you! And you don’t like it? Well, fuck you,  **Walker** !”

Pierre just blinks at me for a moment, assumingly taking all this in, he then looks at Josiah. 

“What the fuck is he talking about?” He asks him.

“Damien, shut up. I don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore. I think I stopped listening half way in because it’s  **_bullshit_ ** .” 

“I’m talking about  **_you_ ** !” This is so frustrating, “You don’t  _ ever _ fucking listen! Because you’re  **selfish** !”

“Whatever. You don’t even fucking do anything about it anyway, so why should I care?”

I flip him off again, not bothering to tell him I did it.

“He flipped you off again,” Pierre fills him in, “Listen, clearly you guys are having issues, but…”

I sway and almost fall again, and Pierre looks terrified. “Damien Michael Cohen! Get you ass inside right now, or I’m coming out there.”

I sigh, heading over to the window then saying, “Let me in, then.”

Pierre pulls me inside and, to my surprise, pulls me into a hug.

“What the fuck?” I say.

“Shut your mouth and listen to me. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m only trying to look out for you. I’m sorry if it seemed any different. But please, for the love of God, if you’re going to continue to drink, do it inside.”

He lets me go.

“Or don’t drink at all. It’s illegal.” Josiah says. 

“Don’t talk to me right now.” I growl.

“Damien!” Pierre snaps, “Maybe you should go lay down. Sober up a bit.”

I glare at Pierre instead.

He takes my almost empty bottle from me.

“What are you even doing here?” I ask.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m just glad I came. Go lay down. I’m serious.” He says.

I could easily overpower him…

**I won’t** …

**_But I could_ ** .

“Fine.” I say, going and sitting on the bed.

They both just watch me.

Pierre looks over at Josiah. “You guys be nice, okay? I’m going to go. Try to work this out like men, okay? Not children.”

He leaves and I lay back on the bed.

Josiah stares at me.

“I have nothing else to say to you.” I tell him.

My head swims and I watch as my ceiling fan goes from one...to four...and back to one again.

“You had a lot to say a minute ago. What the fuck was up with the whole  **_Logan_ ** thing? I just asked you to be civil with him.” 

“Why do you care so much about fucking Logan Haas? If you like him so much, why don’t you  **marry him** ?!”

“ **_What_ ** ? I just think you shouldn’t be an ass to someone like that.”

“Someone who’s repeatedly made my life, and your life Hell? Oh,  **okay** . I called you a bully and an asshole? And all you care about is that?”

“You are only egging him on. Talking to me is different than with him.  **Be civil with him** .” 

“No. I’m not going to approach him, but I’m not going to be  _ civil _ . If he starts shit, I’m ending it.”

And  _ him _ .

**_Little bitch_ ** .

I hate  **Logan Haas.**

“No. Don’t be an asshole. Don’t fight people.”

“Right. So, if I fight people I’m an  _ asshole _ , but if I don’t fight you, _ I’m  _ **_weak_ ** ? And _ a pushover _ ? What do you want from me?!”

“I’m  **different** . He doesn’t... _ belong to you _ …?” 

“Neither do you. You’re your own person.”

“No. That’s where you’re wrong. That’s your problem. You misunderstand  **everything** .” 

“Whatever. I’m done.”

I rip my shirt off and grab the side of the blanket, rolling into a burrito. “Night, then.”

“Are you serious? Why do you run away from everything with me?” 

“Because it’s hard! I don’t want to fight and you fight anyway, and I try to not fight, and you keep  **fighting** .”

I just want to be a burrito.

Everything is easy as a burrito…

_ You’re made. _

_ Then eaten. _

_ Then you no longer exist. _

“Only because you don’t  **_do_ ** anything.” 

“I’ve done so much for you! Do you realise what I’m risking for you? And what I’ve lost?! All for  **_you_ ** ! So, don’t you dare tell me I’m not doing anything!”

“Maybe stop  _ losing things _ and  _ risking things _ for  **_me_ ** ?! And you know what I meant! I don’t care what you do for me, the point is you don’t do anything  **to** me. And it’s weird.” 

“So what? Give it up, I’m not going to.” I sigh, burrowing my face into the pillow.

I just want to sleep...

I’ve had enough alcohol to knock me out.

“You will. You say you won’t, but you will. Just like everyone else.” 

“Nope. Please leave.”

“ **No** .” 

I sigh, “Fine then. Have fun standing there. I’m sleeping.”

I shut my eyes.

“Right.  _ Sleeping _ ,  **again** . Of course. Keep running away from everything and hiding.” 

“Can do.”

What an asshole.

Maybe if I don’t make a big deal out of it, he’ll stop.

I just want it to stop...

“How pissed off are you? Come on. Seriously. Be honest with me.” 

“Three.”

“ **_Three_ ** …? What?” 

“You heard me .”

  1. _Just. Want. To._ ** _Sleep_** _!_



“ _ Three _ out of…? Five?” 

“One hundred.”

“Bullshit. Don’t be like this. You were yelling just a few minutes ago.” 

“No. You’re bullshit. This is bullshit. Just go the fuck away.”

“Are you  **_sure_ ** ?” 

“Well, don’t leave the house. But go away.”

I still want him here… Once we get through whatever this is, it can go back to how it was.

“No, I think I’ll leave the house.” 

I get up and push the couch in front of the door, before laying back down.

**There** .

“I thought you wanted me to  _ go away _ .” He glares at me. 

“Nah. Just leave me alone.”

“Why should I?” 

“Because I don’t want to fight anymore, Josiah. Why does it matter? What’s changed since my trip?”

“I realized what it’s like without you. It’s  **_horrifying_ ** , okay?”

“Then why do you keep  _ pushing me away _ ?”

“I don’t deserve you being nice to me. You know this. Stop making me say it and just  **_do_ ** something so I don’t have to think about it anymore.” 

“I can’t. I don’t care if it…makes me  _ weak _ in your eyes, or  _ mean _ , or  **_whatever_ ** . I can’t. And you said  **_I_ ** need to talk to someone?  _ Whatever _ .”

If we can’t fix this…

Josiah’s all I’ve been sticking around for.

“Your mind is so messed up, I swear. Why don’t you just listen to me?” 

“Because you’re the  **messed up** one!” I snap, harsher than I intended.

Shit. “I didn’t mean that…” I start nervously.

“Move the couch back. Let me leave.” 

“You’ll go back to your dad.”

“No. I’ll go for a walk and cool off and we won’t be mean anymore.” 

“I...wish I could trust you. You want  _ rules _ ?  **Stay here** .”

“I won’t. What’s your consequence?” 

“Nothing. I just won’t let you.”

“In what ways are you planning to stop me?” 

“Can you move the couch?”

“No. But I can call Pierre, and also, you have a window.” 

I sit up and stare at him. “Then do it. I’m done with your shit. You’re not getting what you want from me? I’m  _ not enough _ ? Then  **go** .”

_ Please don’t… _

“I… I’m not going to. Fine. You’re just being an ass.” 

“Thank you so much.” I say quietly.

If I could just figure out what’s wrong….

“ **_I’m sorry_ ** . Does that make things better?” 

“It’s a start.” I lay back down. “There’s an extra blanket on the couch.”

“Okay. If this is your version of a  _ punishment _ , then  **_okay_ ** .” 

Whatever it takes to get him to stay.

If he’s here, I know he’s safe.

“Night, Josiah...even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, I love you.  _ So much _ .”

“Alright.”

…

-Tuesday, November 2nd-

The school day goes painfully slow, and all I can think about is how quiet Josiah was the whole ride there.

When I get to lunch, I ask him, “Can I sit with you?” As I set his lunch in front of him.

“Yeah. Of course.” 

I sit down. “ _ Dog of the Day _ !” I announce, pulling my phone from my pocket.

“Okay. What is it?”

I pull up a picture on my phone. “Today, It’s the dog I saw in Puerto Rico! A Bermese Mountain Dog! They're fluffy, and the one I met was named coffee and was very nice.” I give him the phone

“Very nice. Let’s get one.” 

“We can’t decide until we’ve seen every dog.” I say, opening his lunch and giving him his sandwich.

I doubt it will work again...

“Or we could just get a random puppy and hope for the best.” 

“I like that. Let fate pick for us.”

He starts eating… Thank God.

“And if it’s not a big dog...we return it and trade it in for a new one.” He says. 

“Um, no. We would just get a new one. And have two.”

“I don’t think you could handle two dogs. And a cat. And me, and whatever else.” 

“Um, why not? What do you mean,  _ whatever else _ ?”

“We’re also going to have fish. And I want a reptile. A little dinosaur.” 

“...What kind of little dinosaur?”

At this rate, we’ll have a zoo.

“A lizard. Maybe we should get a snake, too. That would be cool.” 

“No. No snakes. Not happening. I would rather die.”

“Don’t say that. And don’t worry, I would train it to bite your face off. You would die.” 

“No snakes,” I repeat, “They’re creepy...but if death is an option… It's a fair trade.”

“You’re creepy. Shut up.”

“Yep. I’m very creepy. Ten out of ten  _ creep-ness _ .” I confirm.

“Dumb-ass.”

It really bothers me when he says that… But we just got done fighting.

I pause a little longer than normal, before saying, “Yup. That’s me.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Snakes aren’t creepy. They’re cool, and I want six.”

“No and no. Not unless they  **all** bite my face.”

“They will. They’ll be trained to when you’re being an ass. And a spider, too. And an ant farm. All animals will be trained to bite you.” 

Right…

“We won’t have space for an entire zoo.”

“Then I’ll get rid of you and make space for more animals.” 

“Genius.” I yawn.

I’m glad things are getting back to normal…

He said he would train his snakes to eat me, but…

I feel like we can work with this.

…

As I walk Josiah out to the car at the end of the day, I ask him, “Can we hold hands?”

I don’t know if he’s still upset.

Or if he’s willing to do that.

I just need him.

I’ve missed him ever since I left this weekend, and because of everything that’s happened, the feeling hasn’t gone away.

“I don’t care. Do whatever you want.” He replies.

“Okay, what do you want?” I ask him, “Be honest.”

“I do not care.”

“Okay, then.” I take his hand and hold it as we walk silently to the car.

I wonder what he’s thinking about…

When we get in the car, I make myself put my seatbelt on.

I don’t know if it would bother him right now, but I’m not risking anything.

As soon as I start the car, my phone rings.

I pull it from my pocket and see that it’s Mom.

I answer immediately. 

Why would she be calling? She’s probably still at work…

If they want me to come in earlier than 6:00 tonight, I’m going to be pissed.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Damien? Thank God. There’s been an accident and your father’s in the hospital.”

“What?! How? What happened?!”

_ An accident _ …?

“The doctor’s on his way over. I’ll tell you once you’re here. Just get over here.”

She tells me the name of the hospital and then hangs up quickly.

I just stare at the phone in my hands, trying desperatly to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

“Is something wrong…?” Josiah asks. 

“Um, yeah. My dad’s in the hospital, I guess.”

I’m assuming it’s serious, or else she wouldn’t want me to come over.

It has to be serious, for them to be in a hospital in the first place.

I put the address in my phone and pull up my GPS, not quite sure where the hospital is.

I think it’s by the ice cream place?

“Did someone try to kill him?”

“I don’t know. Mom didn’t say. She just said to come as quickly as possible.”

“Someone probably tried to kill him.” 

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. Not to me. He isn’t  **_my_ ** dad, after all.”

“Right. Can we just play nice until we get home tonight? We can’t fight in front of my mom. She doesn’t know we’re dating in the first place, and I don’t want to stress her out or anything.”

I doubt she even remembers Josiah, she met him like one time and it was very briefly.

“We  **_can’t_ ** …? You think so?” 

“Please.” I say softly, already getting lost in my head.

I hope he’s okay…

What if it’s like, really bad?

Like really,  **really** bad?

No. I can’t afford to think like that.

My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white.

_ Don’t panic... _

Once we park in the hospital parking lot, I quickly grab Josiah’s hand and pull him behind me.

We walk inside and I find out where he is from the nice old lady behind the front desk.

ICU.

He’s in the ICU…

I walk a little faster, and Josiah has to run a bit to keep up.

I forget. Short legs.

“Sorry.” I say as we get in the elevator and I hit the third floor button, repeating the directions the lady gave me in my head a few times.

“Why didn’t you, like… Drop me off at home, or something?”

Truthfully, I didn’t want to be alone.

“No time.” I lie.

“Why? Is he dying right now?”

“He better fucking not be.” I let go of his hand.

“Not like it would matter. He’s never home anyway, right?”

I turn to look at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? In what world is that okay to say to someone?”

I can’t do this right now.

What if he is dying..?

Oh god.

“Your dad kills people, Damien. Same thing that I said to Alexa and Avery;  _ Your dad is dying?  _ **_Good_ ** .”

“Fuck you.” I say to him and  **mean it** .

The doors open and I leave, not bothering to wait for him to follow.

He speeds up as I look for the rooms, because I’m not slowing down for him if he’s going to be an ass.

He catches up and follows behind me so closely that he's practically on top of me.

As long as he doesn't grab my hand while my mom’s looking or anything, we will be fine.

“If you’re going to be petty, then you can at least not walk away from me. I can’t fucking see you, dumb-ass.”

“Right, I’m the one being petty, you’re the one saying you want him to  _ be fucking dead _ .”

I slow down for him anyway.

“It’s not  _ petty _ to wish bad things on criminals who kill people.”

“It is if it’s my dad. Can’t you be nice for like five fucking seconds? Is that too much to ask?”

“Why? What would be the point?”

I stop abruptly and he runs into me.

I turn and look down at him.

“Because, you’re supposed to care because I care. that how it fucking works, okay? I don’t care if you care about him, but if you care about me at all anymore, the least you can do is shut up until I take you home.”

I search his face.

He looks mad.

He has no fucking right…!

“ _ Sorry _ . I wish I could but I have no self control, and, frankly, I don’t care if any of this bothers you, or anyone.” 

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Are we really going to do this right here?”

In the middle of the hallway, in an ICU, the last place people should be fighting.

“That depends. Does it make things worse? Are you mad?”

“Why do you keep insisting on making me mad?”

He didn’t used to be like this..

Something is different, and apparently we have to figure this out here and now.

“No. You’re just an asshole. You can yell at me here. Go for it.”

What’s wrong with him?

“Why are you doing this?” I glare at him. 

I can’t figure him out…

There has to be a reason.

“You act like I’m different all the sudden, but I’m not. You chose this.”

He **is** _different_.

“I  **_chose this_ ** ?” I ask him, crossing my arms.

“Yes. I’ve been calling you  _ dumb-ass _ since the moment we met. What the hell else did you expect?”

“This isn’t about calling me names. It’s about you trying to make me mad, and…”

**_Oh_ ** **.**

“You’re trying to make me mad so I hurt you, aren’t you?” I ask him quietly, not wanting people to overhear.

There’s a particularly interested old lady on a bench not far from us, and she’s very bad at eavesdropping.

She’s practically staring at this point.

_ Old hag _ .

She needs to mind her own business…

I’m about to tell her that, when Josiah responds.

“Hit me, or grab me, or yell, or  **something** . C’mon… I know I break you.”

“ _ No _ . I have to go see my dad.”

“Okay. But I’m not stopping.”

“You have to when we get there. Or I  **will** leave you here.” 

“ **_Bye_ ** .”

I start to leave and I spot my mom’s dark red hair from down on the other end of the hall.

Despite saying  _ bye _ , he follows me.

Dumb-ass.

Once we get closer, to my suprise, she pulls me into a huge, tight hug. 

"What's going on?" I ask her quietly, as she hugs me.

“What do you think happened? We live a very dangerous life, Damien, and your dad’s gotten too comfortable.” She pulls away, and to my surprise, there are tears in her eyes, despite her harsh criticism. I have not once seen my mother cry.

Josiah stays back, and I'm glad. I don’t have an excuse for bringing him yet.

"Hey, he’s going to pull out of it." I try to assure her, despite not knowing what’s going on.

He has to, I don’t know what we would do if…

I don’t want to think about it.

She shakes her head, "He can't pull his way out of this one. He's still on life support and the doctors said that he's not going to make it past 5:00.”

I look at the clock. It’s 3:36.

"No. He has to." I say, unable to believe it.

She shakes her head again. “He can’t outrun his sins forever. He's pulled through some serious shit, but he’s a bad person.”

“He’s  **not** a bad person!” I snap at her. “What is wrong with you people? If you don’t care about him, why are you even here?” I ask her coldly.

“How dare you say something like that to me?! Do you realize where we are?! He’s dying, Damien! And I’m going to go find the chapel here and pray. Maybe if I pray enough, his afterlife won't be as bad as it should be.”

She walks away.

She’s just going to leave…?

Leave me here alone with this?!

With my dying father...

No.

He can't die.

"It’s not possible." I say quietly, as she walks away.

I sit down in the chair along the hallway, not sure if I’m allowed to go in the room or not.

Not that I could if I wanted to.

Josiah hesitantly sits down beside me.

“...Does your mom realize she isn’t any different than him…? She seemed upset over his lifestyle.”

“No, I don’t think she does. She thinks her  **God’s** going to save her. At least Dad is a criminal and knows it. He always keeps work and home separate. I actually feel like I’m his son, but with mom, it’s like I’m just a  _ means to an end _ .”

“Doesn’t he... _ train you _ , or something? On Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Yeah, but sometimes at the end of it, we get ice cream or we just sit and talk… He cares about me. That’s the difference. I wish it was **her.** _Not him_.” I say bitterly, feeling tears sting my eyes.

“He doesn’t care about you when he’s set your life up like this. He doesn’t care about anything.”

“Don’t.” I let out a shaky breath, “Please don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything. I just don’t like false hope and bullshit, which is what all of this is.” 

“Well, I do. He does care about me. You don’t know him like I do, Josiah. He’s just carrying on family tradition, doing what his dad did for him, and his dad’s dad did for him, and so on.”

He doesn't  **know** better…

“I guess none of them cared about each other, then. Or someone would have stopped this  _ tradition _ . I guess...the question is if you’re going to continue it on, or not. Since your dad is dying.”

“I don’t want to think about that right now…” I put my head in my hands and feel tears threatening to fall at a moment's notice.   
“Which thing?”

“Any of it. Any of  **this** .” I gesture to the bright white hallway around us.

“Now is a good time to decide if you’re going to step up, though. And if you’ll pass it on to your son one day...when you have kids, with  _ whoever the fuck _ you’ll have kids with.” 

“I don’t want kids. I’ll just fuck them up. All I know is I don’t want to have anything to do with this life. Now, or ever. And  **if** I do have kids, I’m going to treat them like human beings with their own opinions and lives. And I’ll love them  _ unconditionally _ .”

“Then I guess this is the end of the  **_stocks_ ** business, sort of. And that’s weird… The kid thing. How you would handle it. That’s so unnatural.”

“ _ Unnatural _ ? What do you mean? You think you would treat your kids like your dad’s treated you?” I look over at him.

He has his knees pulled up to his chest and is curled into the seat, as if he wishes he was anywhere else.

“I wouldn’t know what else to do. And I hate the whole  **_unconditional_ ** thing. That’s not how people work in general, much less something that just comes with being someone’s kid or parent.” 

“It’s how I love you. Why couldn’t I love my, or maybe someday,  **our** kids like that.”

“Because you don’t. It’s unnatural. And are you really suggesting we could have kids after what I just said?”

“I mean, I love you. I don’t mean right now, I mean when we’re far away from here. Is that not still the plan?”

“Whatever you want the plan to be is the plan. But we can’t have kids, or pets, or anything. I don’t know how to take care of anything. I would just kill  _ it _ .” 

“What do  **you** want?” I ask him again. “You wouldn’t kill it, we would figure it out, together.”

“Don’t ask me that. Right now, I just want to be with my family so things can be normal.”

“ _ Right _ .”

Why am I still trying with him anymore?

We sit in silence until a doctor comes out of the room I presume is my father’s. He has a somber look on his face.

**No** .

He has to have good news.

My dad  **can't** die.

He's holding this  _ family _ together.

“Are you here for Robert Cohen?”

I nod my head.

“If you would like to go say goodbye, now would be the time. It won't be much longer now. He’s unconscious, but some people believe you can hear your loved ones no matter what.”

I stand up and tell Josiah. “I’ll be right back.”

The doctor leaves and I see my dad in the bed and I stop in the doorway.

He looks like a completely different person from the man I know..

He looks so weak and pale, and is hooked up to billions of different wires and tubes and machines.

He looks so...powerless.

I guess we all die someday, no matter how much money, or power we have.

_ I can't do this. _

My chest tightens and it gets hard to breathe.

He can't be dying. It's  **impossible** .

I don't know a life without him, and I do not want to find out what that entails.

I stay in the doorway, not wanting to go in.

As soon as I go in, it’s real.

I look back out at Josiah.

He’s staring at me, a blank expression on his face.

I turn back and take a deep breath, before closing the door behind me with shaky hands.

I stare at Dad again.

This can't be real.

This can't be happening.

Any and all of the emotions I was feeling disappear. 

I’m just...empty now. I have no words.

There is nothing I can say to him because I can't let him go.

I  **can't** .

I have to go talk to him.

Even if it’s fucking stupid.

Even if this whole thing is  **fucking stupid** .

I grab a chair from the corner of the room and pull it to his bedside.

I can't...

"Just..." I start and feel my chest constricting again, "Please." I say, my emotions just gone. I can't think of what to say. "...Just live." I beg softly. I stay sitting for a while. All I keep thinking is that  _ Mom should be here… _

She needs to say goodbye.

I leave the room and go over to Josiah.

"We need to go find my mom."

"Find her…? You don't know where she is?"

My head starts throbbing.

"Um." I put a hand on the side of my head "I need my mom." I say softly.

"I can't do this." 

God... It hurts.

"I thought you didn't like her." 

"I don't. But I need her." I mumble rubbing the sides of my head. 

"That doesn't make sense. You literally just told me a while ago that you wish she was dying."

"I don't know what to do!" I snap, looking at him. 

"Please come with me." 

"Fine. I'm sorry... She can't fix anything, you know." 

"I know. But she should be here." 

He gets up and follows me. I make my way to the front desk again and the lady tells me where the chapel is. We go in silence and I'm really glad we do. If he yelled or got upset right now, I would cry. 

I find the room and push the door open.

My mom's keeled at the altar in front of a simple wooden cross. The room is small, with two small bench seats on either side of this small brown altar.

It's a place for the desperate. They wouldn't hold services here. 

It's practically a  _ broom closet _ .

This is the place you go when there's nowhere else to go.

"Stay here." I tell him quietly. Mom didn't even bother to look at us as we came in.

"Okay." He sighs.

I leave him and walk up to mom. I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Mom." She looks up at me, prayer beads woven between her fingers, her mascara running down her face with her tears. "Damien...?"

I kneel down beside her. I've never seen her anything other than passive or mad.

I don't know how I should feel. 

She shoves the prayer beads in my hands. "Pray for him.  **Pray for his soul** ." She pulls another set of beads from her purse beside her.

I stare at the faded red and black beads with a cross pendant hanging off the end.

As if praying will do  _ anything _ .

"Mom. He's dying. The doctor said you should come say goodbye."

"I've made my peace with this. It's in God's hands now."

"How the fuck can you say that?!"

I'm so tired of this.

She whips her head around. "Watch your language! This is a sacred place!" 

"This isn't God's plan. It's an accident. You need to see him before it's too late." 

"There are no accidents with God." She says, "You're telling me God's going to take your husband and you're just  _ accepting that _ ?! Sounds like a shit God to me." 

She looks at me furiously and before I can stop her, she slaps me. I recoil and stand, throwing her beads on the floor beside her. 

"Good luck with this. It won't change anything." I go to leave. 

Josiah follows behind me, and as soon as we're out of there, I stop and lean against the nearest wall heavily. I put a hand on my cheek where she slapped me. 

**Fuck her.**

If she wants to put God before her family one last time then so be it.

Some fucking  **family** ... 

"Was she mean?" Josiah asks softly. 

"I..." 

I  **can't** . 

I let out a sob, quickly moving my hand from my cheek to my mouth, trying to calm down. I give up and slide into a sitting position, pulling my knees to my chest and still trying to hold back the crying with a hand over my mouth.

"I told you..." He mumbles. 

"I know." I manage to say between the tears. 

"Are you okay? What did she say?" 

"She's....putting her God over her family  **again** . And I told her that her God was a pretty shit god if he let her do that. So she hit me. And I left." My whole body is shaking. 

I look up at Josiah through the tears. 

"Why didn't you tune her out?"

"I can't."

"You...can't? Just ignore her." 

"I had to try."

I run my hands through my hair and pull a bit.

Maybe he has something good going for him with that.

Nah.

It just hurts.

...Oh.

"You should leave her." 

"I can't. Not now. Now if I left, she would be alone."

I clear my throat.

"If he dies.

**_If_ ** . 

He's not dead yet.

Josiah sighs and sits on the floor beside me, leaving plenty of space between us.

"She wouldn't be alone. She has her God." He mocks.

"She's still my mom, Josiah."

I pull at the rip in my jeans, looking at the floor, trying to not cry again.

"You value family an awful lot for someone who pulled me away from mine. You shouldn't. They're bad for you, like Ethan and Hunter have always been. I was right about them, and I'm right about your parents." 

"Please don't do this right now, Josiah!"

I slam my head back into the wall and wince slightly.

"Do you not want advice?!" 

"No. I just want to not feel so fucking alone." I say, shutting my eyes, "If he dies... That's it."

"Okay. Alright, fine. You believe in Hell, right?" 

"Yeah. And he's going there. And it terrifies me. He might be bad. And he might deserve it. But I don't want him to. I don't want him to deserve it."

"Well, the thing is, if Hell exists, then I'm pretty sure it's where we're all going. Every human. So no one should worry about it. Everyone deserves it." 

"Oh," I sigh, "We should go back. He shouldn't have to be like...alone."

"He's not conscious." 

"It's still sad. I would want someone there if I was him."

I don’t move.

I don't know if I can.

"...And I guess, if you were him, I would probably want to be there. So, I'm shutting up now. Let's go." 

"I...can’t."

I curl my legs closer to me and rest my chin on my knees.

I shouldn't have to do this.

It's too soon.

"You have to. I'm here with you, and we're okay." 

"It's not okay." I take in a quick breath, "Oh god, it's so not okay. I can't do this alone. I can't..."

I start shaking again and it gets hard to breathe.

"I'm sorry." 

... _ Sorry _ ?

"Don't leave me." I say, the fear so fucking evident in my voice that I'm disgusted at myself.

"I can't. I never would. I-I'm so sorry for being mean." 

I look over at him.

"I'm sorry, too." I manage.

I rest my head against the wall again and try to calm down.

"Once I quit panicking we can go back and I'll call Pierre to come get you."

He shouldn't have to be here 

"I don't wanna leave you..." 

"You shouldn't have to be here." 

"I want to be here for you, though." He murmurs. 

"I..."

I start crying again.

"I can't do this Josiah. I can’t be the adult here. What if...oh, god. What if they make me like...pull the plug or something...? Shit. I..." I can’t breathe again and I have to stop and hang my head, trying to catch my breath.

"There wouldn't be a reason to. He's dying anyway, life support really isn't... I mean. Don't worry about any of that right now. Go be with him now and tell him whatever you need to tell him." 

"Okay..."

I force myself up and he follows behind me.

I walk slowly and take his hand, not caring if people see anymore.

By the time we get back to his room, my hands shaking so much, I end up having to let go.

"Sorry." I mutter about the hands.

"What?  _ Sorry  _ for what?" 

"Shaking. And being a mess. All the fucking time." I say, looking at the floor again.

"You're not the mess between us. Don't try to take my title." He forces a soft laugh. 

"Right. Your title." I try to smile but it doesn't work, "Can I… Nevermind."

"Don't say  _ nevermind  _ to me. I'll spend the rest of the month trying to figure out what you were going to say." 

"I was going to ask for a hug, but I realized you would say  _ no _ , so I stopped."

"You can do whatever you want, Damien. Seriously. Don't ask me." 

"I want you to want it, too." I say quietly. I take both his hands in mine and hope mine stop shaking.

"I just want  **you** . Nothing else matters."

"Okay." I whisper and pull him into a gentle hug.

I bury my face in his shoulder and his arms go around me tightly.

The tears really haven't stopped since we left my mom. And to be honest, I don’t know if they will.

He tenses up a lot, but doesn't move away. "I love you." He says. 

"I love you, too."

He hates this...

I quickly let him go.

"I should call Pierre. Let him know what's going on." I sigh.

"Y-Yeah... Is Pierre close to your dad?" 

"No, but he’s been with our family since I've been five. I don't know why my mom didn’t call him, too."

"Maybe she didn't think of it." He shrugs. 

"She's never liked him." I say.

I call him and quickly explain everything I know.

He says he'll be here in twenty minutes.

Once I hang up, I sit back down beside Josiah and stare at the door.

"I don't know if I can go back in." I admit.

"I can come with you..." He offers. 

"Really?" I shake my head, "No. I shouldn't do that to you...this is something I should handle on my own."

_ Don't be weak. _

I force myself to get up but I just stop and stare at the door.

_ Don't be  _ **_weak_ ** _. _

My chest constricts as I think about it again.

_ Don't. Be.  _ **_Weak_ ** _. _

"It wouldn't do anything to me. I don't care. I just want to help you. Do you think you'll be okay?" 

"I don't think I'll be okay no matter what." I say quietly.

"Whatever makes you more okay, then." 

"Come with me."

**_Weak_ ** .

He gets up and follows me into the room.

There's a couch near the bed.

He sits there, and I wonder if I have to, like, sit beside dad, or...?

I just stand and stare at him.

_ At my father _ .

I don’t even know what happened...

"I'm going to try not to say anything unless you want me to. Okay? If I'm bad, tell me. I'm here for you." 

I sit down beside Josiah. "Talk about something."

Anything that isn’t  _ this _ ...

Anything that isn't  **_death_ ** ...

**_Anything_ ** .

"Don't let me pick. My mind isn't working right. I'll just talk about my parents, or how if Hell exists, it's inevitable for everyone." 

"Talk about dogs, or pizza. Or school." I suggest.

"I want dogs, pizza, and school right now. A bunch of big dogs, and a yummy pizza, and just reading and learning. With cuddling the big dogs. And you. We hug and the dogs just lay on us..." He trails off.

"I want all of that, too." I say quietly.

"Then my snake...who's name is Pancake...bites you. And his name is Pancake for irony. Because he's shaped like a tube and pancakes are very flat." 

"Then I’m dead. I've always wanted to die by a pancake."

I try to focus on the conversation.

Focus on him.

"If anything killed you, it would be pancakes." He smiles. 

"Yeah." I mutter, dragging my eye from the floor back to my dad.

I can't quit staring at him.

"This doesn't seem real." I say.

"Maybe it's not." 

"What?"

I look over at him.

"Everything might be fake. That's what my brain says sometimes. Sometimes I'm not real, and sometimes no one else is. Maybe nothing is real." 

"...I hope so."

I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, trying not to cry again.

The door opens slowly and I hope it’s my mom.

Maybe she's changed her mind...

Maybe she's...

The figure walks in.

It’s Pierre.

I feel tears fall again.

She's not coming.

Pierre looks over at my dad for a moment before I stand and say, “The doctors said he won’t make it past five.”

He looks me in the eyes and asks, “Are you doing okay? Where’s your mother?”

“She’s praying.” I spit out, not able to keep the anger from my voice.

He pulls me into a tight hug. “I’m sure...she’s doing what she thinks is best.”

“I don’t know what to do.” I say quietly.

“In situations like these, there’s nothing you, or anyone else can do.” He says, pulling away. “But, you don’t have to go through any of this alone. You have me, and Josiah, and plenty of people who care about you, okay?”

I nod my head and he sits in the empty chair next to the couch. I sit back down beside Josiah, and Pierre begins making small talk with Josiah, who really just answers with straight  _ yes  _ and  _ no _ ’s. It would be funny to listen to in any other situation, but I can’t focus on it right now.

I just stare at the hospital bed and feel guilty about just wishing this would end.

…

“Damien? Are you coming back in?” Josiah asks me, standing in the doorway to my dad’s room.

I left to get some air, like, ten minutes ago.

It’s 4:47.

Almost five.

“I don’t think I want to.” I answer him, leaning against the wall across from the room, tired of all of this sitting and waiting.

Nothing’s changed since I got here.

No improvement. No changes at all...

**_Nothing_ ** .

I keep trying to tell myself,  _ no improvement _ is better than  _ dead _ .

But this waiting is driving me crazy.

Josiah walks over and puts his hand out to find the wall before leaning on it. This makes our height difference very obvious in my point of view. He’s about to my shoulder.

“Damien… I was really, really little when my mom died and I don’t remember it. But I still want you to know that I understand what you’re going through, to some extent…” 

I take his hand. “Thank you for being here. For real. I should have Pierre take you  _ home _ tonight. Who knows how long this will last…”

“The doctors said 5:00… Didn’t they?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Could be five today, could be five tomorrow...

“I can’t imagine they’re too far off...but okay. I’m only going home if you’re okay, though.”

The doctor walks by and nods at me, before going into my dad’s room.

Pierre comes out of the room and smiles at our holding hands. 

I’m sure he’s just glad we’re not fighting right now...

The doctor comes back out to talk to us, and basically says what I just did.

It’s a waiting game, and we have no idea when he might... **die** .

That’s fucked up.

But the doctor didn’t seem too hopeful that anything other than dying was an option.

No one bothers to tell my mom.

If she wanted to be here, she would be.

As far as I know, she hasn't left the chapel.

Once the doctor leaves, I ask Pierre, “Could you take Josiah home later tonight when you go? He shouldn’t have to be here.”

“Who said I was leaving?” He asks me.

“Um… **_me_ ** ? You don’t need to stay.”

“Someone does.” Josiah says.

“Really, guys, I’m fine.”

“You’ve told me a million times that you’re **_not fine_**. Why the hell would I believe you now?”

...He has a point.

“I’ll take Josiah home, and make us some food and bring it back, how does that sound?” Pierre says.

I nod. “Okay. I guess so.”

I walk them out, wanting to clear my head a minute.

As soon as I watch them walk away toward Pierre’s car, my chest constricts.

I  **hate** being alone.

But right now, at least it gives me some time to think, and not have people constantly looking over at me, and being worried about me and breathing down my neck the whole time.

That room’s getting very claustrophobic.

I stay outside for a few minutes, enjoying the cold air on my skin.

It's nice to not have to breathe the stale hospital air that reminds me of  _ antiseptic and death _ .

I can't even begin to think about doing anything other than listening to my music and hoping and to every god I’ve ever heard of to save him.

Even though, by all religions’ rights, he’s a very bad man.

But he is my dad.

And he loves me.

And that's all that I need to know.

It's never bothered me that they’re criminals, until they wanted me to join, and then this. Now I can't help but wish that they were fucking accountants, or some shit. It would be pretty hard to land yourself into the ICU over, like,  _ a...calculator accident _ .

What if he dies, and I have to take over the business?

I can't think about that. 

He's going to live. He has to.

Eventually, I force myself back inside. It’s going to be a long night.

...

I wake up to my phone ringing on my lap. I don't even remember falling asleep.

My neck is stiff from falling asleep sitting up in the chair.

I rub my neck as I blink at my phone screen. It's 3:10 and Josiah is calling.

Oh boy.

I rub my tired eyes and answer groggily. "Hello?"

“Damien, c-can you please come b-back? I...I can’t sleep. I keep hearing all this stuff from downstairs, and I-I don’t know what to do and…” He rambles on.

"Hey, slow down. What's going on?" I ask, worried.

He repeats himself, a little more coherently this time.

"Do you really want me to come get you and bring you here? I can, but you won’t sleep here, either."

“I want...you...to come here.” He says unsurely.

"You know I can't leave." I say softly, trying my best to calm him.

“I know! I really do, I-I understand… I s-still need you. I need you so much. Can’t y-you just c-come here for awhile? I want to s-sleep… Then you-can go back!”

"I can't leave. I don't know when…" I can't make myself say it, "I don't know if he's going to…" I quit talking altogether. I don't even want to think about it.

"I wish you were here, too." I say quietly, not wanting to wake Pierre, who’s fallen asleep in the chair beside me.

“You...told me to call you if I needed you…”

"I know. I…" I stop and take a deep breath.

I look over at Pierre. He's passed out. I can probably make it back before he wakes up.

...Before it happens.

I can go for a couple hours… I could be back here after dropping Josiah off at school at 8.

"I’m no use here. I'll be there in 5." I say.

I hear the relief in his voice as he says, “Thank you so much. I’m s-sorry…”

"See you soon." I say, hanging up.

I leave the hospital and drive back to my house as quickly as I can.

As I open the door that goes from the garage and into the house, I’m met immediately by Josiah, who practically throws himself onto me with a hug.

I step back, almost falling over.

"Jesus Christ! I say, almost chucking, "What on earth…?"

“I missed you.” He whines.

"Let's go back to bed, yeah?"

“I need you to carry me because I missed you so much.” He grins for a moment, before pouting at me.

I sigh and scoop him up, carrying him bridal style back up to my bedroom. He rests his face on my chest.

Once we get up there, I sit him on the couch then go into the bathroom and change into my black and white pajama pants and a black tee shirt. I then quickly brush my teeth then put my phone on the charger, setting an alarm for 7:20 so that we have time to get ready to go.

As soon as I sit on the couch in my room, he curls up against me, putting his arms around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and I feel his slender fingers begin playing with my hair.

This is exactly where I want to be.

Not in the hospital with my dad, who could die right now, or in ten years, or  _ who fucking knows when _ .

I want to stay right here.  **Always** .

I sigh and lean into him more, my limbs feeling heavy and finally relaxing just a little.

"I needed you." I say quietly in his ear. 

“I needed you. Why did  _ you _ need  _ me _ ?”

"Because I always need you." I say, surprised at his question.

“Always? Like… Always,  _ always _ ? Forever?” 

"Always,  _ always _ and  _ forever _ ." I confirm.

“I’ve always needed you, too. If I-I had you when I was little, then… I c-could have been happy.”

If I wasn't  _ fucking suicidal _ , I would be smiling right now.

"Well, maybe someday, you can be happy. With me."

"I hope so."

I yawn and he says, "Get some sleep, you must be exhausted."

I snuggle in, ready to get the rest I need.

As I sit there, I find myself thinking about the past.

Specifically thinking about when I was a kid, and the first time I found out my parents were criminals.

When I was eight, I had friends.

I know, a shocker. I was at my friend Cody’s house and suddenly I felt really sick, so his dad brought me home.

My parents weren't expecting me and they sure as hell have a way of bringing work home with them.

My stomach was hurting and I ended I'm coming down with the flu later, but all I know is that I will never forget the exact details of this day.

I was wearing a Power Rangers shirt with the blue ranger on it. Because blue was, and still is, my favorite color.

I also had my Velcro sandals on and my black cargo shorts that were my favorite because I could hide so many action figures in the pockets.

My hair was longer back then than it is now, and it hung in my eyes. My mom always wanted to get it cut, but I insisted that everyone who is cool wears their hair like this.

I walked myself into the house, using the key my parents had given me.

I was a pretty responsible child and had to let myself in a lot, because even at a young age, they were never home much.

I walked into the house, dropping my duffle bag at the door and I walked into the kitchen. First, to find Pierre. I wanted to go let down. I did not feel good, and I wanted to  **S L E E P.**

I walked in, and surprisingly no one was there. Weird.

I then went into the living room and again, empty.

I called out, "Hello?" But no one answered.

I started to get worried. If mom and dad aren’t home, then Pierre always is.

Where is he? 

I thought hard and remembered that when he finishes his work, he sometimes helps the cleaning people out.

Maybe he's in the basement helping with laundry…

But I wasn't allowed down there without an adult.

And even with an adult, I wasn’t allowed behind the  **green** door.

That room was mommy and daddy's room, and I wasn’t allowed to go near it. It was always locked.

But I had to go find Pierre.

I didn’t feel good.

I opened the door to the basement and I heard a scream.

I ran and hid behind the door, afraid to come out.

What if someone needed my help?

I looked down at my power ranger on my shirt.

I have to save the say, just like the blue ranger.

I pulled the action hero that matched my shirt out of my pocket.

I needed him for.my mission to come.

"Let's go." I told the blue ranger quietly and we snuck our way downstairs.

He was my second in command and always took his orders very seriously without causing trouble, unlike the RED RANGER. Obnoxious prick.

I went down the wooden steps as quietly as I could, making sure not to creak any of them.

I couldn't get caught until we complete our mission.

When I got down to the bottom of the stairs, I saw the green door was wide open.

I couldn't see in it, so I had to go through.

I wasn't allowed.

But the blue ranger told me I had to save the day.

So I took his expert advice and charged in.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw my mother, holding a gun to a man's head.

They didn’t see me.

I quickly hid behind a crate of weapons or some shit and then I peeked over again.

Only the bad guys use guns.

And my mommy had a gun pointed to a man's head, who looked really scary. He had a lot of blood on his face. I looked around some more and saw my dad, who had a chain wrapped around a different guy's neck.

Why were mommy and daddy acting like bad guys?

I  _ THOUGHT _ they were good? They read me stories and kissed my forehead when I felt sad.

I wanted to join boy scouts and my dad said no, only to make up his own scout like thing and teach me how to tie knots and build fires and he would even make me my own patches.

How could that dad be the same dad that's choking someone to death.

I remember my mom saying to the man, "Fine, if you won't give us anything, you're useless."

She turned and my dad nodded and said, “Now."

His face was turning the color blue.

I did not like that color blue.

That color blue was scary.

I held onto the blue ranger tightly and I kept watching, my eyes wide.

I watched as mommy pulled the trigger and blasted the man’s brains out of his head.

Blood went everywhere.

And I began to scream.

After that, my parents put me through years of therapy, but I've never been able to forget that fear of finding out my mom and dad were monsters.

And I didn't do anything to stop them.

  
  
End


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-December 2011-

I tuck myself into the corner, hoping he won’t notice that I’m here.

“Not again, not again…” I whimper, feeling my hands tremble. I start pulling at my hair, tears spilling down my face uncontrollably.

A sob escapes my throat when the door gets thrown open. 

No...

“You little bitch… Get out here and take your punishment like a man! Or I’ll hit you harder! You aren’t allowed in the bedroom, unless I bring you here.” My dad snaps at me. 

I drag myself off of the floor as quick as I can, stumbling over to my father. I intertwine my fingers with each other, eyes landing on the ground.

“D-Daddy...please…” I beg, which is the only thing I know how to do.

I wince and back off when I realize that he is holding a picture frame. 

Inside the frame, there is a picture of my mommy with me when I was a baby. She was carrying me, smiling down at my face. 

Daddy always told me that she loved me since the moment she laid eyes on me.

He says he doesn’t understand her. Because he only hates me more and more everyday.

It made the blow of the frame being thrown at me hurt way more.

I let out a sharp, strained cry, dropping to the ground. I clutch on to my shoulder, where the frame impacted.

It  _ hurt… _

Blood starts seeping out of the new wound. I already knew that it broke through skin as soon as it touched me.

My father grabs me by my arm and yanks me off of the ground before I have a chance to recover, eliciting a scream due to the sudden tug on my shoulder. 

He throws me into the wall.

I’m not allowed to scream. 

“What is wrong with you?! Why do you always disobey me?!” He storms over, snatching my chin to force me to look up at him. 

The feeling of eye contact with him makes me so, so uncomfortable… 

Like his eyes are burning through mine into my soul.

I stare up at him with tearful eyes.

“I’m s-sorry, dad! I’m so...sorry… Please, no m-more hitting…!” I stammer.

“ _ Sorry _ doesn’t cut it.” He slaps my face, before taking me by my shirt collar and bringing me over to the bed. He throws me down onto the bed, on my stomach. 

I assume that I am going to get spanked, which is at least better than being full-on beaten. I could still go to school tomorrow if I just get spanked.

I hate being thrown, and having things thrown at me, and being punched...anything is better than that.

I feel his hand grab the back of my head and press my face down into the sheets.

I can’t breathe…

No… 

Help…

I squirm, grabbing his arm and trying to push him away.

Always the worst thing I can do.

He starts to let go, and as soon as I go to sit up, he slams my head back down, harder than last time.

He says something, but I’ve tuned him out at this point.

Then he grabs onto my jeans and starts pulling them off.

“Daddy…?” I wince, bracing for the burning pain of a smack.

Fuck… I was wrong.

…

-Wednesday, November 3rd-

I shoot upright, shaking horribly. 

I try to speak, but I just scream. 

As per usual.

I remember that whole situation so clearly. I also remember that directly afterwards, I walked in on my father sobbing. He was looking at one of my mother’s scrapbooks, repeating _ I’m sorry  _ over and over again to her.

I remember forgiving him, because he was sorry.

Then he did it again, and again, and again… I forgave him every time.

No matter what he did, it was okay with me. Because I forgave him.

And I’ll never stop. 

I hear a voice, and I can’t quite make out what it’s saying, or who it is.

All I can think of is my father. 

All the things he did…

How fearful I became of his touch.

Being blind and unaware of where he was, or if he was mad…

Only knowing when I saw movement and realized he was raising a hand at me.

All the shit that damaged me, but I won’t ever acknowledge is wrong…

Every single thing Damien promises he will never do.

Damien…

He…

He’s the one talking to me.

I pry my eyes open and look at him, forcing myself to listen to him.

"...Hey, you’re here. Safe with me. You’re not wherever you just were, okay? You're with me."

"Dad-" My voice cracks, stopping me from being able to ask what the hell just happened. 

I'm tired of this. I'm tired of these nightmares – or, whatever they are. They're almost more like flashbacks. I just don't know what to call them.

I dig my fingers into Damien's shirt, pulling, trying to stuff my face into his chest desperately.

“It hurts.” I mumble against him.

He hugs me to him, and it takes everything in me to  _ not _ wince as soon as he touches me. "It's okay. It’s over.” He promises. 

"W-Where… Where is he?" I manage. 

My stomach twists into knots, and I pull hard on Damien's shirt. 

My father… He must be coming for me. He's going to get me and hurt me all over again. I just know it! 

It quickly becomes hard to breathe. 

Just like when he stuffed my face into the mattress and nearly suffocated me with the sheets.

I’m suffocating…

Fuck.

_ Get me out _ ...

**_Help me_ ** ...

"He's not here. And I won't let him get anywhere near you, do you understand?"

"W-What about...when you're not here... H-He's going to g-get me, Damien..." I stumble over my words, as always. 

My breath hitches in my throat. 

No... 

Even if Damien is here, what if my dad just hurts him, too?! I would rather him not get hurt. Is it better for him to not be around me...?

I knew it. 

He tenses up slightly, as if he’s been waiting for this. "You're going to be okay, do you understand? Pierre is taking you to and from school, and if anything happens, you will call me and I will come. Just like today, alright?"

"N-No!" I clear my throat, trying to calm myself down so I sound more serious and strict, "No. You don't need to c-come, ever. S-Stay with your dad." 

Stay safe…

Not that he’s safe or happy at the hospital. 

I know I can’t stand that place.

The smell, and the atmosphere, and the way everything seems to look exactly the fucking same...

I know I’m weird with senses and such, but… There’s no way he likes it there.

Especially not when his father is dying and his mother doesn’t give a shit about any of it.

"No. Your safety is more important. You have to promise to call me if there is trouble or I will make you stay with me. I can't lose you, Josiah."

Damn. Why is it so hard for me to listen?! What's wrong with me?!

"What about your s-safety? And your family...  **_Y-Your family_ ** . They're important, r-right? Don't you love...love them?" 

...I hate talking. I can't sound confident for one fucking second... 

What’s up with that? Why the hell am I like this?

"Of course I do. But I love you, too."

"I think...this is g-going to end with you being really m-mad at me." 

Even if he says he won’t.

I release him and instead start pulling my hair. 

He has all of this other shit going on. He shouldn't have to leave his dying father to come here and sleep next to me. He shouldn't have to wake up in the middle of the night and have to try to comfort me.

I try to ask him how he is feeling, as if to change the topic. But... I can't say anything anymore. I break down into sobs. 

I can’t fucking  **_do_ ** **anything** ...

I wish I could really punish myself. 

I wish I could really, really hurt myself somehow...

"Maybe I will get mad. I can't promise I won’t. But your safety is the most important thing right now. And besides, even when I get mad at you, it doesn't last for very long. Because I can’t stay mad at you no matter how hard I try." He says soothingly.

"Try harder, then." I mutter. 

I quickly shut myself up, one hand covering my mouth, the other still pulling at my hair. 

I swear. I don't  _ really  _ want everyone to be mad at me. I especially don't want Damien mad at me. Ever. 

I just can't stop pushing for everyone to hate me and hurt me…

I want someone to kill me... 

**What the fuck is wrong with me** ?

"Why would I do that? Do you  _ seriously _ want me to be  **mad** at you? Or to  **hurt** you?"

I nod. "Y-Yes. I don't know... It's... I think I deserve it, and y-you don't s-seem to think so..." I place both hands on my lap and look away from him. 

I hate stressing him out like this.

It’s just how I am. 

I’ll tell him over and over again that he picked me, so it was his choice to involve himself in all of this. So he has the choice to abandon me, or hurt me, or do whatever he wants…

But I don’t really want him to. I just want to change and be good to him, so he isn’t sad anymore. 

I want to be so good I can save him. Unlike how I was with everyone else I’ve ever met. They all hated me. 

Even with my parents, who loved me...literally to death…

They hated me.

"I h-haven't met...anyone who doesn't hit m-me." I tell him.

"I can't hurt you. That would...destroy me. The idea of ever hurting you even on accident..." He stops.

I pull my knees up to my chest, distancing myself from him. 

For some reason, my brain decided to remind me about the fear I felt when I first met Damien. He was a bully who messed some people up a lot. He is totally capable of hurting someone. 

Just...not  **_me_ ** ?

I don't respond, but he seems to want me to. 

He forces himself to speak again. "I don't know what you want me to do. What can I do to make you happy?" He asks.

The same shit I want to know from him.

"Only do what m-makes y-you happy. I c-can handle...anything. Really," I tell him, rubbing tears out of my eyes, "I-I just can't handle you b-being upset."

Even if what he wants is to throw me out on the streets, I would be okay. I need him, but more than that, I need him to be happy. I need him to not be so stressed.

If I'm a stressor, I should either be a reliever – like I've been for my father – or I should disappear.

Even in all the ways I relieve stress with my dad, I brought more on. He didn’t really like hurting me. 

He always apologized after the bad touches...

"I'm adding s-stress. I saw it on your face and heard it in y-your voice; This w-whole thing would be easier if you didn't have to d-deal with me." I inform him, like he doesn't know.

He either doesn't know it, doesn't believe it, or just wont tell me that this is exactly what he's thinking…

"I want to have to deal with you. I can’t imagine a world without you,  **okay** ? I can’t hurt you, I can't leave you. I won't. Because that's not what I do. I don't care how anyone else has treated you, because I'm going to treat you with the love and respect that you deserve. I'm not going to walk out or simply give up on us just because you think I'm stressed out. And so what if I am? The idea of losing you stresses me out the most." He says.

I blink a couple times before closing my eyes all together. 

I’m too tired for everything right now.

“Why did y-you...c-call me s- _ selfish _ ?” I ask him after a moment.

He was drunk...but is that really an excuse? 

Does he realize how much that hurt?

“What? When did I call you selfish?”

“When you g-got off the roof…”

“Oh. I was mad and drunk and should have just went to bed like Pierre said.”

“Okay… But do you r-really think s-so…?”

“No. Of course not.”

“You s-said it, though. And it h-hurt...like hell.”

“I’m sorry. I just said it to be mean. I really don’t think you’re selfish. If I could take it back, I would.”

I rub my eyes. “You can’t.”

Ever. 

I’ll never forget that.

“I-I know I was being mean, but… Don’t s-say that to m-me. There’s a million other things I w-would prefer you do.” I tell him.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he says.

“You’re n-not really.”

He’s lying to me because he knows I’m freaking out right now. This isn’t fair.

“Yes, I am. I don’t want to hurt you. But somehow I always end up doing it anyway.”

“Because I push y-you too far. Every time.” I state.

Because I’m  **_selfish_ ** and I won’t listen to him, and clearly I don’t even care about hurting him…

I guess.

“Not normally, you’ve only been doing it recently because... _ you know _ .”

“I  **don’t** _ know _ . I have n-no idea what’s wrong with me. I’m s-sorry. If I say s-something bad, just...leave. Tell m-me to shut up and then l-leave me  **_alone_ ** .” 

Like always. As I’m used to. 

“Because you wanted me to hit you,” He explains, “That’s why you’re trying to make me upset. But even if I’m really mad at you, I’d just do what I did yesterday.”

“That’s s-scary, too, though… Hey. Why did you w-walk away? Did I m-make you r-really pissed off?”

“Yeah. You did.”

“How?” I ask.

“Um, you did what my mom does sometimes and it always fucks me up, and I know you didn’t mean to and I shouldn’t hold it against you, but I guess it’s like how you would rather be called anything but selfish.”

“Not  **_anything_ ** , but y-yeah… For the s-same reason, too. My mom... **yeah** . What did I do?”

“You called me  _ weak _ . She does that. All the time. And I hate it, because no matter what I do, it’s just proof I’ll never be enough for her.  _ I’ll never be a good enough son _ .”

“I’m s-sorry. I was analyzing y-you, and I think I-I misunderstood something. That’s n-not why you’re not mean to me, or why you won’t p-punish me. You don’t d-do these things because y-you think they’re wrong. It’s just your belief s-system  **_seems like_ ** it makes you... _ that word _ ...and I didn’t think it w-was such a big deal. **I’m sorry** .”

“Hey, it’s alright. I’ll get over it. I have bigger things to worry about right now. I don’t have the energy to be mad anymore.”

“I’m still sorry…” I murmur, sighing deeply, “I’ll p-probably do it again. I wish I knew how t-to stop myself.”

Don’t let me make you sad…

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Nothing has to be worried about tonight, okay?”

“Alright. I love you.  **Seriously** .”

“I love you, too,  **very seriously** . I’m a  _ very _ serious person, you know.”

“You’re usually not.” I correct.

“I’m  _ edgy _ and  _ serious _ .”

“Well, you’re  **_edgy_ ** .” I nod.

“I’ll take it.” He yawns.

I try to relax now that things are worked out at least a little.

“...I’m sorry.” I say again, tears filling my eyes... _ again _ .

“It’s okay, really, Josiah. Everything’s going to be okay.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

I feel my body be wracked with a few more sobs, before Damien pulls me into his arms again, figuring that I'm finished talking.

I spent a long time just crying in his arms, trying to shut myself up so he can get some rest. 

I’m so tired, but I can’t actually sleep that easily.

Everything is...so scary.

What were those noises earlier?

Is Damien going to kill himself?

Will I end up with my dad again? 

_ Everything _ ...  _ is _ ...  _ so _ ... **_horrifying_ ** . 

End


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Wednesday, November 3rd-

After Josiah’s freak out, I didn't fall back to sleep. I found myself holding him in my arms and remembering bits and pieces from my childhood all night long, all of them involving my dad, of course. By the time the alarm goes off, I haven’t slept at alI.

I didn’t even have the urge to get up and drink, not sure of when I need to be back at the hospital.

I stared at my phone multiple times that night, waiting for a call from Pierre, saying the worst had happened.

I get up and get ready as quickly as possible, taking this opportunity to take a shower and all of that. When I'm done, Josiah goes in the bathroom and locks the door behind himself. I then hear the shower begin running and I quickly change out of my towel and into some dark jeans and a Panic! At The Disco shirt. 

I slip my motorcycle boots on and quickly finger comb my wet hair. While he's still getting ready, I empty my school bag on my bed and pack it up with stuff I’ll need to entertain myself at the hospital. I grab my phone, earbuds and charger, and I stuff a leather jacket and some of my homework in there, too. 

I’ll have to be really bored to do my homework, but you never know.

Josiah comes out of the bathroom in his big white sweater that he was wearing when we first met.

He’s so fucking adorable sometimes… I can’t even.

He slips some socks and his sneakers on and grabs his school bag.

"So, do you want me to come get you from school and take you back to the hospital with me? Or do you want Pierre to get you and just bring you home?"

“I think I’ll be okay with Pierre…”

"Okay, let’s go." I say and we walk to the motorcycle.

“No. Not that. I’m never riding that thing again.” He protests.

I sigh. "Josiah, just get on, you don't want to be late for class, do you?" I say, handing him his helmet. I'm not going to stop riding my motorcycle, so he better learn to at least accept it.

“You’ll change your whole life for me, but not the motorcycle… I see how it is.” There’s humor in his tone. He thinks this is funny. 

I sigh again, holding back a laugh. "I can't give up _all_ of my badass energy."

“You still have your edgy band tees. I don't mind those.” 

"That doesn't count. If it’s something anyone could go and buy, then it's not _EDGY ENOUGH_."

He laughs, and I swear to God, it's the best thing I’ve ever heard. I could listen to his soft airy laugh for hours. Just knowing I was the one who made him smile almost makes me smile.

He begrudgingly puts his helmet on and sits behind me, his arms going around my waist.

Despite us being together, his arms around me is still enough to give me butterflies. Not that I would ever admit it. That's not what an edgy person would do. 

I must prove my **_badass-ness_**.

I quickly take him to school and, as he gets off the bike and hands me his helmet, I say, "If anyone gives you trouble, call me and I will personally beat the shit out of them."

He nods, " _Of course_." 

I surprise him by leaning over and kissing his cheek, making his entire face turn red.

I finally let out a laugh at this and he looks at his shoes, embarrassed.

"You’re going to be late. Have fun today."

He looks up and smiles at me before rushing inside. As soon as he's safely in the school, I take a quick lap around the parking lot, making sure his dad isn’t here.

Once I’m satisfied he is as safe as he can be alone, I drive quickly to the hospital. When I get there, the first thing I do is hit up the cafeteria. 

I make the quick decision to get something for Mom. I’m sure she’s still where she was last night.

Like Pierre said, she’s doing what she thinks will **help**.

I mean, she would just be waiting anyway…

It's easy to make excuses for people you love.

I hit up the hospital cafeteria first. I grab some fruit, yogurt, and coffee then I head to the chapel. Thankfully, I got no calls or messages or anything, so that must mean no changes. Which is good. Because at least he isn't dead. Granted, he isn't improving, but he's not dead….

I take a deep breath before exiting the elevator. 

I don't know if I can do this again.

I force my hands to quit trembling the best I can, and once I get to the chapel, I take a deep breath before going in.

"I got us some breakfast, and I brought coffee." I tell her.

She’s still kneeling, beads in hand, her red hair down and messy, mascara still on her face, eyes clamped shut.

She hasn’t even changed her position.

One of her eyes peaks open and up at me.

"From were?"

"Just the cafeteria. It’s no Starbucks, but I figured it would be better than nothing."

She has an unhealthy addiction to her coffee, something we actually have in common.

She gets up and sits with me at a pew, taking the food and coffee from me.

“Any changes?” She asks.

“No, but I’m tired of waiting.” I admit.

“It’s all in God's timing.” She says serenely, and I don’t have the energy to argue with her. Not again.

Let's hope something changes today.

Something for the better.

...

The doctors come in almost every hour, telling us what we already know just in different words.

" _No changes_."

I’m getting so frustrated. It’s the fucking 21st century. Why the hell can't they do anything? We've evolved over using leeches for every ailment, you think they could figure this shit out.

I check my phone frequently, but there are no bad messages from Josiah. When I know he's at lunch, I text him.

Is everything going okay?

**_Josiah_** : Yeah. I think so.

I love you.

**_Josiah_** : Love you too.

**_Josiah_** : 💛💜💙💚❤💗💓💖💕💞💘

Then he kept spamming me with heart emojis until his lunch was over.

By the time 3:00 rolled around, I was outside, trying to get some air. I swear, it’s so hard to breathe in that room. It’s so full of _antiseptic and emotions_ I can’t take it.

What if he dies?

They have a bench outside, by the door, and I sit down there.

It’s really cold. I should have gotten Josiah a jacket.

I mean, I could use one, but my jacket is in my bag upstairs.

And I can’t go back yet.

I turn up the Taylor Swift in my headphones and attempt to drown out my thoughts. It doesn't work.

I check my messages and see that Pierre said he went home and would be back in a bit.

Whatever, I doubt much will happen in between now and then.

What if he dies?

What then? Do I have to take over the business? How do I take care of my mother? Granted, I know she’s more than capable of handling herself, but am I going to have to help arrange a fucking funeral?

And what about Josiah? His dad is still out there, and as much as I pretend I don’t care about him, I’m so fucking scared.

I put my head in my hands, my breathing getting even more difficult with every sharp intake of air.

My hands are shaking so fucking hard.

All I want is a drink and a really long nap.

If only to shut up my brain.

I’d do just about anything to shut up my brain at this point.

I pull open Google Maps and see that the nearest liquor store is only a block from here.

I set out and get a bottle of vodka and a flask before driving back to the hospital. I put them in my backpack before Pierre can see then I go into the bathroom.

I just need a fucking drink.

I lock myself in a stall and I fill my flask up, taking a swig from the bottle before hiding it in my bag again.

I slip my jacket on and put the flask in my inside pocket.

I then begin to head back to the hospital room, when I hear an alarming chorus of beeping coming from his room. A doctor and some nurses rush past me and I stop dead in my tracks.

_Those weren't good beeps._

_No, no, no, no, no_...

 **No** , this can’t be happening.

I force my legs forward and into a run.

I try to get into there, too, but a doctor pushes me out before shutting the door.

"What…?" 

No, this can't be happening...

This has to be a nightmare.

I’m going to wake up, and Josiah is going to be sleeping soundly in my arms.

And my dad will be perfectly fine.

Everything is fine.

 **_Everything is fine_ **.

 _Everything is going to be okay_.

I back up and lean against the wall, trying to push down any worry.

After a bit, the doctor comes out with a somber look on his face.

 **_No_ **.

"I'm so sorry…" He begins and I immediately tune him out.

He says something. Along the lines of how _there was nothing they could do,_ and _at least it was quick,_ and _I'm sorry for your loss._

Before walking away.

That’s it.

He’s **_gone_ **.

He can’t be gone. 

It's impossible.

Suddenly, everything is too much.

The lights are too bright.

The smell of antiseptic is too much.

The beeps stop and I lose it.

I have to get out of here.

I run to the stairs, having no destination.

I try not to think.

I try not to feel.

I just run.

I run out of the building.

Then out of the parking lot.

I keep going until my lungs feel like they're going to burst.

I keep going when my legs feel like they're going to fall off.

I finally stop and I find myself quite a few blocks away, in the public park.

I make my way over to a bench.

Breathing heavily, I sit down and I pull my knees to my chest, my whole body trembling.

I hold back a sob, trying to hold myself together.

I'm just sitting, watching it all come crashing down around me.

I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Josiah.

He's gone.

I can't **believe** it.

I sit my phone down, and before I know it, my phone starts buzzing and won't stop.

I look at it and I have missed calls from Josiah, and Pierre.

I watch the screen light up as they keep calling.

But I don’t move.

I can’t.

I don't know how long I've been out here, but after a while I turn my phone off and pull the bottle out of my bag.

I take a long swig, waiting for the warmth of the alcohol to maybe take some of the pain away.

My chest hurts so badly, it feels like I’m going to have a fucking heart attack.

But I just can't wrap my head around the fact that he's gone.

I can't do this.

There's too much.

It's all too much.

I dig down, attempting to think of reasons to hate them.

Maybe if I don’t love him, or her, it won’t hurt anymore.

It's as if I can feel them, all of the emotions and secrets I’ve been pushing down since I was eight that day that I watched my mom blow someone's brains out.

The day I saw my parents as monsters.

I vowed I would never EVER become that.

The look on Josiah's face when I called him _selfish_ the other day...

I realized I had become to him what my parents had become to me that day.

 _A monster_.

He's terrified of me, and it's all my fault.

I can't snap again.

I can't. I hardly have Josiah hanging by a thread.

My family is **falling apart**.

And this is all my fault.

If only I had been their perfect son.

if only I hadn't been so... **_weak_ **.

Am I being ridiculous? _Maybe_ **.**

Does that fact make me feel any better about myself? **_Not in the slightest_ **.

A voice taunts me so loud in my head I'm sure at first I heard it out loud.

" **_This is all your fault_ **."

I have another drink.

This is all my fault. I'm right.

I'm so, **so** stupid.

If only…

What's the point of **_if only_ ** anymore?

I was a fucking goner as soon as I bought this bottle of vodka tonight.

I was a goner the moment I was born into a house of monsters disguising themselves as people who loved me.

There's nothing I can do.

And for once, the music isn't working.

I pull my earbuds out and sit them and my phone in my bag.

I take another drink and watch the sunset from my bench, wishing desperately that I was anywhere but here, but not knowing of anywhere else I could go.

...

After it gets dark and I’ve run out of alcohol, I still feel nothing. So I go to the liquor store again and grab a second bottle for the walk home. At least I'm not dumb enough to _drink and drive._

I can feel the alcohol hitting me as soon as I finally make it home by foot.

I don't know what time it is, my phone has been turned off since 4:00 today...

It’s really dark, though.

I stop in our front yard and turn my phone on.

The bright light blinds me and I let out a hiss.

Then I laugh. I’m _hilarious_.

And shitfaced drunk.

I lay down in the soft grass, not able to go much farther and I call Josiah.

He picks up the phone on the second ring.

"Damien?! What the **_hell_ ** ?! Where are you? We searched, like, **_everywhere_ **all day! I will get Pierre and we'll pick you up if you tell me where you are."

"I'm in the yard outside," I say, careful not to slur my words, "Bring some blankets, it's cold as balls out here."

“What? The hell are you talking about?! I-I’ll be out in a second, t-then…” He hangs up.

After a few minutes pass, I hear the front door open then close.

I don't move at all, I just continue to stare up at the night sky.

“Damien?!” He calls.

“I’m over here. Hi.” I sit up.

I hear him walk toward me and then drops a blanket on me.

"Damien, what on earth is wrong with you?!"

I look up and see one really mad Josiah. Like, a REALLY mad one.

Well, by _one_ , I mean **_three_ **.

Shit. I drank too much.

"Listen..." I start, but then stop.

He stares down at me, waiting.

I don't finish.

I have no excuses.

I just... I couldn't deal with…

" _Well_?!"

"Josiah," I start again, but to my surprise, my voice cracks.

I don't feel anything at all, I’ve drank enough to assure that, but I feel tears falling down my cheeks.

Suddenly, he's beside me, hugging me so hard that I think I'm going to split in two.

I hug him back and he says, "I’m sorry... We were all just so worried...and with how you were acting yesterday, I was so scared you were hurt, or **something** , I-…"

I cut him off by pulling away just enough to kiss him. His eyes go wide at first, but then he falls into it.

I let myself enjoy the kiss until he pulls away so quickly that it feels like a slap to the face.

"Damien!" He hisses, scooting father away, "Y-Your mom is _inside_! What if she...saw us?"

I grunt angrily and lay back down, pulling my blanket over me.

"...Are you seriously drunk right now? I swear to God, you taste like rubbing alcohol smells."

"So what if I am?" I say defensively.

"You're only eighteen! Not only is it illegal, but it will seriously damage your brain since it is still developing. That is why it’s illegal! That, and you aren’t smart enough to do this! You haven’t gotten to the point in your life where you understand the consequences of drinking, or most of the other shit you do. Studies have shown that-"

I cut him off, "Josiah, my dad just…" I stop, I can't say it.

Silence fills the space between us. He's at least sitting down, but it feels like he's on a different planet.

He finally just lays down, pulling his blanket up and over him. It’s cold out here, in more ways than one. I've never felt so _distant_ before.

I can't help but worry about scaring him again.

Just like the other day.

"I don't know what to say." Josiah mumbles beside me helplessly.

I just hold my hand out of the blanket and toward him. “Hold my hand?”

I want to feel something.

Anything.

"Your mom..."

" **Please**." I beg.

I just need to _feel_ something.

He reaches around and I feel his hand slip into mine hesitantly.

"Thank you." I murmur.

I wait for his touch to do what it normally does.

Heal me.

Distract me.

Anything.

But…

 **Nothing**.

Normally, it would make my entire insides feel warm.

But maybe it's the excessive alcohol in my system...

Maybe it's the fact that my dad…

Fucking hell, I still can't even _think_ it. Let alone say it.

Eventually, Josiah says softly, "We need to go inside."

He helps pull me up and we walk silently back into my bedroom.

"Can I stay in the guest room?" He asks me.

"Yeah...my mom…"

He nods and says, "See you tomorrow, then."

He leaves and I feel the cold invisible wall between us seeming to get thicker and thicker the farther he goes.

I flop into bed and pull all of the blankets over me.

I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.

...

All night, my brain gives me no peace, and it decides it would be a great idea to remember every single thing I've ever done with my dad, as if showing me some sort of fucking highlights reel.

The three of us going out to see a movie when I was fourteen.

Me and him going on a weekend trip together, just us **boys**.

Him and I doing fake homemade patch after patch of _not actually Boy Scouts, but totally Boy Scouts_ in our living room together.

The dream turned darker after a minute.

Watching him strangle that guy out when I was eight.

Him yelling at me for making mom mad and being an irresponsible brat.

Him yelling at me for not wanting to be involved in the company.

Him and mom leaving me behind.

Time and time again.

Me begging them to stay with me.

To not leave me home alone.

Them leaving anyway.

The look of fear in the man’s eyes as I held a gun to his head…

Them telling me to pull the trigger.

All of the machines beeping.

He **died**.

He's gone.

And he's **never coming back**.

My father is dead.

I'm shaken awake and I try to pull myself out of the nightmare.

"Damien, wake up, it's only a bad dream." I hear Josiah say.

Except it wasn't just a bad dream.

_It’s real._

He's dead.

I open my eyes and he says, "You were shaking and talking in your sleep. Are you okay? Wait, that’s a dumb question… Forget I said that."

I just stare up at him blearily. It's still dark out.

"What's going on?" I ask him sleepily.

"Well, I was having a hard time sleeping on my own tonight, s-so…" He starts, looking at my sheepishly, blushing a bit.

I say, “Lock the door."

He leaves for a moment, but then he comes back over beside me. 

I get up and lead him to the couch, pulling him against me as soon as he sits down.

I wrap my arms around him and he settles in.

"Thank you." He says, burying his face into my chest.

Nothing.

No _butterflies_ , none of the usual warmth.

I feel nothing at all.

I kiss him on the head and pull a blanket over us, tucking him in slightly. I let my hands play with his hair and before I know it, he’s sleeping soundly in my arms.

I'm terrified to go back to sleep.

What if I have the dream again? Or an even worse one? 

I just decide to pop my earbuds in and listen to music until my alarm goes off for school.

…

Josiah groans beside me as the alarm yells. "Turn it off…"

I manage a slight smile and do as I'm told.

He stirs and looks up at me with sleepy eyes.

"Good morning." I say, and he looks at me worriedly.

He puts a hand on my cheek and states, "You still seem really tired...and really **sad**. How can I make you feel better? How can I help?"

I pull him into a soft kiss.

"Just like that." I manage.

In all honesty, there's absolutely _nothing_ he can do to help.

I'm on my own.

Despite him being right here, it still feels like there's some sort of wall between us. And I dont think it’s coming from him, for once.

"I'm sorry about yesterday… Do I need to go tell them I’m here?"

Josiah shakes his head, "I told Pierre when you went to bed. They're going to leave you alone for the day, if you need it."

Good.

The idea of facing my mom after abandoning her yesterday is so stressful.

"Well, are you coming to school with me today?" He asks, looking up into my eyes hopefully.

"It's better than being here…" I start and he smiles widely.

"Let me make sure mom doesn't need me today first."

I can't avoid her forever.

I force myself up and I go downstairs.

I find her passed out on the couch and I kneel in front of her, shaking her gently.

"Hey, mom?"

She opens her eyes, and as soon as she sees me, her eyes fill with tears.

“How could you do that _to me_?! I didn’t know where you were!”

“Like you _care_.” I murmur.

Everything is _always_ about her.

Maybe if I drink enough, I can shake this painful feeling of nothingness.

Nothing hurts more than this.

"Don’t start with me today, Damien. What are you doing up so early?" She asks.

I stay standing in front of her, crossing my arms. "I was going to see if you needed anything today. If not I was going to go to school. It’s Thursday."

She looks at me, a bit surprised.

"You don't have to go to school yet. I called your principal the day your dad was in the hospital. You can stay here as long as you think you need to.”

"Please let me go… I just need some sort of... **_normal_ **."

She looks past me, going over her list in her head. “I can handle today and tomorrow, I’m sure. We're having the showing Friday night and the funeral Saturday morning."

So fucking soon.

_I can't do this._

My hands start shaking so I cross my arms tighter.

I can’t look weak.

"If you need help, just call me. I can always come home."

She nods, "Okay. You better go get ready, then.”

I nod and go back upstairs.

She seemed eager to get rid of me.

Josiah is already ready to go and is just sitting on my bed, tying his shoes on.

He gets up and hugs me gently.

"Are you coming today?" He asks, looking up at me.

"Yep. Just gimme a second to get ready."

He nods and lets me go.

I take a speed shower, getting completely ready to go and then quickly change into some _black_ jeans and a _black_ hoodie. I slip on my _black_ jacket and a _black_ beanie.

 _Edgy_.

It’s fucking cold out.

I go into my closet and find Josiah one of my other leather jackets.

I hand it to him and say, "We're going to have to get you your own coat soon. Winter is coming quick."

He nods, "It's r-really cold out… D-Do we get to take the car, then?"

"I left my motorcycle at the hospital, so I guess we have to."

He nods and smiles at me.

I don’t even bother attempting to return it. It will only be a lie anyway.

We get in the car and head quickly to school.

As soon as I park and get out, he's at my side holding my hand.

We walk into the school together, just like any other day.

Except it’s like...everything’s the same but me.

I don’t **belong here**.

No one bothers us all day. In fact, I make eye contact with a few people and they quickly look away, scared shitless at my mere eye contact.

Just like it **should** be.

No one even dares to look at Josiah, and he doesn't seem to mind. 

Normally, I’m the one talking and he's listening, but today, it's the opposite.

It takes all of my strength to listen as he talks to me. I keep finding my brain going back to yesterday. To his death.

I'm so horrible to him. I can't even make myself listen to him talk?

All day I find myself just zoning out.

Josiah starts eating his sandwich and I just stare at my lunchbag.

“So… Find any cool dogs?” He asks me, breaking the silence.

“No.” I murmur, playing with the rip in my jeans.

“Did you not look? I thought you had a list of all the dogs. Y’know. Since we have to get every single dog.”

“I didn’t look at the dog list this morning like I normally do. No dog today.”

“Oh. I guess I should pick dog of the day, then. Let’s mix it up. Literally. Purebreds are often inbred, we should think about getting a mixed breed. A mix of the biggest breeds all together.” 

“A test tube dog?” I suggest, “ _Frankendog_.” I say, resting my head on the table, not able to get into the conversation.

“No...but okay. What’s the top three big dogs? Let’s find a mix of those and feed it a lot and it’ll become the biggest dog.”

“It’s the Great Dane, Neapolitin Mastiff, and the Scottish Deerhound.” I recall from memory.

“Alright. So, we find a mix of those, feed it a lot of good food, and… What else can we do to make it really big?”

“Give it lots of love, like they do to _Clifford_ in the show.” 

“Wait. What? _Clifford_? What’s that?”

“ _Clifford the big red dog_. It’s a kids cartoon.” I say into the table.

I could pass out right here.

“A cartoon about a big dog?! Fuck yes. Let’s watch that. Sounds like the best show ever!”

“Okay.”

He pauses a moment, before trying to pick up the conversation again. “And you should make a list for that. All the good shows and movies that we can watch with couch hugs.”

“That sounds _nice_.” I say, wishing I was at home sleeping, or drinking.

The lunch room is really loud.

I put one of my earbuds in, leaving the other out so I can hear him talk.

That helps...some.

“Oh! When we get pets, who will feed them? If you want me to, I’ll need reminders. Because I will forget. I have **really** bad memory.”

“That’s not for a long time. We’ll deal with it then.” I say, looking around the room, noting all the possible exits.

I wonder if I can just…run…?

“Or we can discuss it now so we establish it before we have to worry about it. How long can a dog survive safely without food…? I don’t want to hurt any of them. It’s a problem.” 

“We’ll make a schedule.” I say, looking back over at him.

“Okay. That sounds good. Just remind me to check the schedule when it’s time. I will **not** remember.”

“Right.”

He keeps talking and I pull my phone out, texting Pierre and asking him to go get my bike from the hospital for me.

He has gotten my motorcycle for me on plenty of occasions.

When I’m done, I lean my head down again and Josiah keeps rambling on about snakes and guinea pigs and hamsters and dogs…

I quickly tune him out, only listening just enough to agree with him occasionally.

...

The day passes too quickly, and soon enough, the bell rings, telling us it’s time to go home.

I **don't** want to go back. It's so much emptier there now. It's always felt empty, but now it's like everything there triggers a memory for me.

I thought about it all day, trying to come up with valid excuses for us to go somewhere.

"Hey," I say as Josiah grabs my coat from his locker and slips it on, "Let's go to the store and get you a coat and gloves and stuff."

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" He asks, searching my face, worried.

"Honestly, it's the last place that I want to be. Let's go." 

I say, convincing myself we need to get him a coat and stuff **_TODAY_ **.

He shrugs and gets into the car with me.

I just need something to distract me. If it has to be fucking coat shopping, then so be it.

End


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Josiah’s P.O.V.

-Thursday, November 4th-

I hate the mall. I don’t understand why every store here has to be so expensive.

But… Damien insisted. 

I don’t even want winter clothes… I’m good as I am.

**Cold** . As always.

“Damien…” I try to get his attention as we walk into the store together. 

"Hmm?" He murmurs, clearly not listening to me.

Ignoring me. 

Just like he’s been all day.

I continue anyway. “What’s the price limit? Like, what am I looking for here…? Twenty, thirty dollars?” 

He seems taken aback, but then he chuckles at me, a bit amused. I squeeze his hand and let my eyes fall to the floor. I must have said something wrong. 

"Josiah, you can pick whatever you want. It doesn't matter. As long as it's what you like and will keep you warm. We should get you a hat and gloves and stuff, too."

_ A hat and gloves and stuff _ ...

Fuck no.

“Oh? Sorry, I forgot…” I adjust my hair out of my face and look up at the clothes around me. 

I blink at the coats when he leads me to them. It’s hard to imagine owning any of them, and for some reason, I feel the urge to run off. 

“Go ahead and pick.” He tells me.

Damn.

I release his hand and reach out to find the softest thing. 

This one is soft, but it isn’t as soft as I expected, and it was black anyway. 

I really don’t think I want anything. Damien will persist until I pick, though, and I know he is upset right now anyway. His father just died, for God’s sake… The least I can do, is to do what he wants me to do. 

“I don’t care. Just grab one and let’s go.” I pretty much give up.

“Josiah, I will purposefully get you the ugliest coat if you don't pick one. I want it to be something you like, not something I  _ think _ you will like."

Like I care...

I pull on my sleeves, bringing them over my hands and holding them there. 

“Okay. I just want something soft and comfy.” I shrug.

I spend a few minutes  _ looking  _ through all the stuff again and again, as if any of it would change and become something I would choose to wear.

There were a couple that were okay, but… None of them made me excited to get them.

“Don’t you like any of them?” Damien asks me.

“Yeah… Can we look around other places?” I sway a bit, suddenly feeling tired and bored out of my mind.

Or maybe not so  _ suddenly _ . I didn’t want to come.

“Sure.”

I run my hands through my hair before starting to walk away from him, ready to look in other places and drain time.

How much longer until it is time to go back to the house and sleep?

“Can we get cookies before we go home?” I ask, freezing in place.

Damien is trailing behind me, not seeming to have much interest in any of this. I don’t blame him.

Why are we doing this right now? He isn’t in the mood, I can tell…

“Sure, I guess." He shrugs,  **still** not really paying attention to me.

**_Grrrrrr_ ** _ … Pay attention to me! Asshole! _

I chuckle at my own thoughts and begin walking again. 

“Awesome. You know, freshly baked cookies are warm. Maybe I could have those instead whenever I get cold, so I don’t have to pick out warm clothes.” I start spouting nonsense, trying to get him to react.

I look back at him expectantly. 

He nods, "Yeah, I guess that would work. You still need a coat, though."

I bit my lip and crossed my arms.

Eating warm cookies is an awful way to stay warm. It’s just an excuse to have glucose, just like how people want ice cream when it’s hot outside. It doesn’t really do much. 

He doesn’t say anything else. I want to argue, but I decide not to.

I wander into another aisle of coats and run my hands along them as I walk, trying to find the softest one. Something that feels like a comfy, super soft sweater!

I stop and curl my fingers into a robe coat that was fuzzy and a muted red color. It wasn’t quite pink, but it was far from the color of blood. Just a really nice red.

“Damien!”

Damn, it’s so, so soft!

He looks up from the floor and just says, "That's a girls coat."

“It looks comfortable… Is it another bad thing, that it is for girls? Will I get in trouble for that…?”

"It depends on if you look super cute or not," He says, "Try it on."

My eyes go wide behind my glasses, staring at the coat. I take it off the hanger.

“How do I know if I look super cute or not? Are  _ you _ going to tell me?” 

I like this. He is starting to seem more entertained by me. 

He laughs, confirming to me that he isn’t completely lost in his mind. "You always look super cute. But I'll tell you if it's good or not." He promises.

I put it on over my sweater, immediately turning and facing Damien. I look up into his eyes, waiting for him to tell me what he thinks. He stops as if he was actually thinking about it. 

He just wanted to make me wait.

"Very,  _ very  _ cute." He says.

I grin back at him. "Fantastic! Then we can buy this and leave!" I try to distract him from the other stuff he told me I need to have, "After getting cookies, of course!" I add. 

"You only get cookies if you get gloves and a hat, too."

"...Was that part of the rules?" 

I thought I could take his mind away from all of that. I thought I had more control over him than this…

"I guess I forgot. I always forget stuff. Been bumped on the head too many times." I chuckle, rubbing my head.

Dammit.

I take the coat off, feeling his eyes locked on me. He seemed to be back to not being so amused. 

**_Booooo_ ** _ … _

"I think you were just distracted by the idea of cookies." He says, and I can tell he's trying to lighten the mood again.

That's my job. He's supposed to be the brooding one. I must be playing the part of the cheerful one…

We’re both awful, bitter people, actually.

"Maybe both! Actually, definitely both...!"

I nod.

We both reach for each other's hands at the same time. I make the move to intertwine our fingers.

I like that we can hold hands in public. It makes me feel safer, and closer to him.

He pulls me over to the hats and gloves. "C'mon, I want cookies." He says.

"Is there candy around here? I definitely deserve candy and cookies if you're gonna make me wear  **_gloves_ ** ." 

I grab a random pair of white gloves that are, of course, also soft. I hand them to him, along with the coat. 

He takes them. “You can get candy  _ or  _ cookies. Not both."

"...I don't want to live in this unfair world, where I cannot have  _ candy  _ **_AND_ ** _ cookies _ ..." I whine, snatching a matching beanie and pulling it down onto my head, pushing hair in my eyes.

He bends down and kisses my lips. "You're the cutest."

Shit. That’s not good.

"Cool.  **Thanks** ." I feel my face heat up.

I never expected him to kiss me in public... Ever.

I thought it was taboo?

I hate that.

"Uh... How much does all of this cost so far? I think we should stop." I find an excuse to make sure he doesn't try to take me anywhere else, and to change the subject. 

"It doesn't matter. I have my card. If you want we can check out and go get you that cookie." He says, taking my hand and guiding me toward the check out.

"More like two cookies. Let’s go, then."

Something else gets my attention after we walk right by it on our way to the checkout area.

"Damien!" I snap, "Close your eyes now! Close them!" I bounce in place slightly, tugging my hand away from him.

He looks around, a bit panicked by my sudden outburst.

"I said close your  **_goddamn_ ** **eyes** ! ...Please?" I beg.

He finally shuts his eyes before asking, "What the fuck? Why?"

"I found something for you. You're not allowed to see it!" I explain.

He pauses a moment then smiles, "And I'm buying it for you...for me?" 

"I'll get a job and pay you back! Just, please, do not open your eyes!" I order, poking his hand, "Cover them so I know they're closed!" 

He nods and does as told. 

Ah, I'm in control again!

I back off and get the gift. It's  _ ironic  _ and  _ sweet… _

A black hoodie with Taylor Swift on it.

Perfect.

I grab it and bring it back over, taking the other stuff from Damien so he can keep his eyes closed.

"Gimme your card." I hold my hand out expectantly. 

He laughs, "Okay," and just hands me his wallet.

I grab the hem of his shirt and lead him over to the cash register. I put all of the stuff onto the counter.

"Uh... Hi, how are you guys doing today?" The cashier asks. She’s around our age.

I don't respond, which prompts Damien to. "Fine. How are you?" He asks the same question back, a hand still over his eyes.

She chuckles and begins scanning the clothes. "I'm doing great. Why are you covering your eyes?" 

He laughs, "Oh, someone decided to get me a present and if I take my hand off my eyes I'm going to get my ass beaten by him." He says, gesturing toward me.

I glare at him.

I take his credit card out of his wallet, turning my stare to the clothes.

The cashier suddenly stopped scanning after getting the coat and the hat.

"And you're actually doing it... That's so sweet. How cute." She gushes.

Did she just call him  _ cute _ ? 

... **What** ? 

He's not  _ cute _ . He's the cool one!

"Thanks." He smiles back at her, lowering his hand a bit.

I tug a bit on his shirt. "Damien, don't peek..." I whine. He quickly covers his eyes again.

She scans the hoodie and the gloves and bags everything up. "It's always nice to see guys buy each other things. Men usually think they're too cool for that." 

She laughs again.

I swipe the card in the machine when it tells me to, ignoring her because she's just being annoying. It's not special for anyone to buy anyone else stuff.

"Well, not all men are like that. Presents are fun and that's that." 

"Yeah, definitely. I wish my ex would have thought that," She tilted her head at him, "Glad I broke up with him. Hey, uncover your eyes, everything is bagged."

He drops his hand and opens his eyes.

Why did he listen to her over me? I...I didn't tell him to open his eyes yet.

I let go of his shirt and took the bag of clothes, putting his credit card back into his wallet and handing it to him.

He takes it, but doesnt look away from the cashier.

"Thanks. It was weird talking to someone and not being able to see them."

_ Hah… _

_ Jeez. I wonder what that’s like. _

"Yeah, I bet... Hey, before you go..." She grabs a piece of paper and starts writing on it, handing it to him.

He glances at the paper. "Have a great day." He smiles. 

"You, too!" She replies.

I glare at the floor, staying close to Damien as we walk out together.

"...What's the paper?" I ask.

He laughs, "It's her phone number." We pass a trashcan and he throws it out.

"Her phone number...? Then, she wants you to call her? She seemed to like you, a lot."

I want to grab his hand again, but I feel a bit too nervous for that right now. I look back, toward the clothes store we just came from. 

He takes my hand. "I didn't want to hurt her feelings. That’s all."

"S-So what? I think she wanted to...to date you. You should s-say  _ no _ ." I huff.

My chest hurts a bit. The idea of Damien being with anyone else like that... 

It hurts me like hell. 

"Why would you need to be nice to her, though?!" I pull my hand away so I can tangle my fingers in my hair. 

"Because she's a human with feelings? Why are you acting like this?" He asks, stopping, "Are you jealous?"

... _ Jealous _ ?

No way.  **_Jealousy_ ** is a  _ bad  _ thing.

"No! I-I just...don't understand why y-you didn't tell her  _ no _ , and...and I'm upset. Don't be s-so nice!" I complain. 

Damn...

I am jealous, he's right.

He smiles, "You want me to stop being nice? No one’s said that to me...ever."

"I want you to s-stop being nice t-to other people! Jerk..." I mutter, tugging on my hair.

Damn. I've never wanted to punch someone before, but I want to punch that girl...! Or, at least, I want to go back and tell her to back off because Damien is completely off limits to everyone else.

If he left me, I…

I would have nothing. Most of all, I wouldn't have him. If I didn't have him, then it wouldn't matter what else I have anyway.

I need him. I will always need him. For so many reasons.

Before I could even realize that there were tears burning my eyes, Damien pulled me into a tight hug, making me drop the two bags. 

"Hey, it's alright, I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"I wanna  **fight** her." I claim.

I do. I want to fight her. I want people to know not to mess with us. I can't let anyone ruin this…

He chuckles softly, still hugging me. "Not happening." 

He lets me go and grabs the bags. "Let’s go get cookies."

"Don't look in the bags!" I warn.

I rub my eyes, looking back one more time before starting to follow Damien again.

"Do you... Do you  **_really_ ** like girls?" I ask him. 

"What?"

"Like... Would y-you date a girl  **_for real_ ** ?" I lean against him a bit.

"I have dated girls...you're the only guy I've ever really been into...so, yeah. I would."

"Did you like them? Did you want to be with them?" 

Please, say  _ no _ .

Life would be so much easier for him if he was with a girl.

"Well yeah. I liked them at the time...but, right now, I like you. And that's all that matters."

He seems to have something against dating a boy. Like, subconsciously, he thinks it's weird.

If girls aren't an option... I don't know if he would consider anyone other than me. I don’t want him to consider anyone other than me.

Is that bad? I feel like that's bad. 

I'm turning insane over this. 

"I was just wondering." I sigh, lying, obviously. He doesn't press for answers, though. Thankfully.

I try to drop the topic entirely, but the idea of Damien being with someone else harasses my mind over and over again as we go to get cookies.

I don't know if I want cookies anymore…

"Hey. C-Can we take a nap when we get home?" I ask. 

"We can do whatever you want to."

"I want to take a nap..."

“Alright. So, we’ll get some cookies from the bakery, then we can go home and sleep for a bit.”

I nod and pick up my pace to keep up with him.

Sometimes, he fails to acknowledge that he takes longer strides than I do. It gets annoying. 

There is a minute of silence between us.

“...How are you feeling?” I ask, despising the silence.

He looks down, refusing to look at me as he responds, "I...I don't quite know yet. I’m here. With you. So that's something." He's not normally this unsure of anything. 

“Okay… That’s good. Let’s not get chocolate chip this time. Pick a different kind. Anything you want.” I try to be nice, but I am in no mood for chocolate chip. 

I’ve been trapped in this little bubble my whole life and being with Damien is giving me the opportunity to explore new things. Maybe I should quit Pop-Tarts, too…? Real food is an option now and I should start learning to like it.

Or not. 

_ Preferably not _ . 

"But, I like chocolate chip. What if we got...chocolate  _ CHUNK _ ?"

“Isn’t that basically the same thing?” I complain. 

"No, ‘cause _chocolate_ ** _chip_** is **chips** of chocolate, whereas _chocolate_ ** _chunk_** is **chunks** of chocolate. It’s an entirely different texture and normally the chocolate is a higher quality in the chunks than the chips. In fact, in most cases, the chocolate is a darker chocolate in chunk form. More of an 87%, if you will. And chips are more of a milk chocolate. At least, that's what I've noticed." 

“...Damien, I don’t think you’re okay. You sound crazy.” I giggle at him. 

"...I just really like chocolate chunk cookies."

I clutch on to his sleeve as we enter the bakery. He is acting weird, and he has been all day. Again, I can’t blame him.

I need to stop blaming him for things altogether. Like that cashier flirting with him… It really isn’t his fault…

Even if he flirted back…

Even if he kicked me out and started dating her…

He can do whatever he wants.

“Get the chocolate chunk then.” I mumble.

I still think they’re the same. 

He goes up to the person at the counter of the bakery.

"Hi, could I get a couple of chocolate chunk cookies and also a few…" He pauses and looks over at me, "Which ones did you want?"

“I-I was just going to get what you were getting…? Uh… I’ve never had anything other than chocolate chip… Please just pick something…” 

"A few sugar cookies too, then." He smiles at them.

“How many?” The bakery guy asks.

“Are sugar cookies good? Like, what do they taste like?”

“Um… I think they're good. And they taste like sugar.” 

“I want twenty of them.” 

Damien quickly cuts in before the guy starts getting them. “Sorry. Just three will be okay."

“What? No, at least a dozen.”

“Josiah, what the fuck are we going to do with twelve cookies?"

“I’ll  _ eat _ them…  **_Obviously_ ** .”

The bakery guy just smiles at me and sighs. He really doesn’t seem amused. 

"I'm sorry," Damien apologizes to him again, "We just need three chocolate chunk cookies and three sugar cookies, and that's it."

I pout and hide behind him a bit, feeling the bakery guy stare at me like he wanted to kill me.

I seem to have that effect on people.

**_Ha_ ** …

“Okay. Three chocolate chunk and three sugar cookies. That’s $6.00.”

“Damien, if I get a job, can I afford a dozen cookies so you can’t tell me no.” 

"If you want to die when you’re twenty-five because all you eat is cookies, then be my guest." He says, paying the man with cash.

“I’ve survived off Pop-Tarts for seventeen years.” I remind him stubbornly. 

Whatever. I don’t even know if these  _ sugar cookies _ are good anyway. Besides, I’m not in the mood to eat anything anyway. It’s just too late to change my mind and tell Damien  _ no _ .

I’m just too used to having to ask for more of everything.

“ _ Fair _ ." He says.

The bakery guy hands Damien the cookies and I swear he glares at me like I was crazy.

...I don’t like the mall.

End


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Damien’s P.O.V.

-Friday, November 5th-

The days leading up the funeral are slow and uneventful. I decided to just keep going to school with Josiah, because the alternative was helping with the  _ funeral plans _ . I know I would just be even more of a fucking mess if I did that. So, I figured I would just pretend that everything is okay and try my best not to have a mental breakdown the next few days.

It's been impossible.

I get home and drink, then pretend I wasn't so Josiah doesn’t get on my case again. It’s the same the next two days.

Just trudging forward.

Attempting to not feel anything.

Trying to pretend I'm  _ me _ .

On Friday after school, though, something finally breaks the routine.

As Josiah and I leave the school, holding hands like usual, I see a familiar car pulled up outside the entrance. And someone leaning against the side of the car.

I only had the displeasure of meeting Josiah’s father once, but his image never left my head.

Anyone who has hurt Josiah like that...

I'll never forget them.

And I sure as hell will  **never** forgive them.

I stop and turn to Josiah, who hasn't seen him yet.

"Go to the car right now and wait for me."

He looks up at me, alarmed.

"W-What? Why?!"

"It's your dad. Go get in the car," I instruct, "I'll handle this."

His entire body goes rigid with fear.

"D-Damien…"

"Josiah, go. Now." I growl.

“Okay, but… What are you going to do?”

"I don't know." I say, letting go of his hand.

His father’s eyes lock on to him, and he immediately stomps over to us, a pissed off look on his face.

Josiah steps behind me, a shaking hand on my arm.

"Josiah, it's time for you to stop fucking around and get your ass back home. I’m sick of having to constantly deal with you like this.”

I can feel Josiah shaking behind me.

"You have no right to talk to him anymore." I say, standing up straighter. 

"No right to talk to him? I’m his  **father** . I can do whatever I want with him.” 

"You better back the hell up right now. Or I will wipe the floor with your sorry ass. He's not going anywhere with you. Ever."

"Back off. This has nothing to do with you, brat.” He reaches over and snatches Josiah’s arm, making the move to pull him over to him. 

Josiah whimpers at his touch.

"If you don't let him go right now," I say, staring him dead in the eyes, "This is going to have everything to do with me." I say, not making a move yet. I won't fight him unless I have to.

“You can’t scare me off, kid.”

“Damien…” Josiah whines, staring at me with the most heartbreaking look in his eyes.

"Maybe I can't, but all it would take is one call to the police department and you would be back behind bars in a heartbeat. I know what you have done and I’m sure as hell not letting you touch him ever again." I say, pulling Josiah out of his grip and back to me. I hold him behind me protectively, and he clings to my shirt in fear.

This asshole better step back. It's taking all of my willpower to not beat the shit out of him right now.

“Now, I would suggest getting the fuck out of here before I call in some backup. Do you understand me?" I growl, tired of this shit.

He laughs. “Shut up and give me my son. This is kidnapping. That’s illegal.”

"And beating the living hell out of your own son is illegal, too."

Not to mention all of the  _ other things _ he's done to him. He'll have to get past my dead body before I let him get near him.

“I have the right to use corporal punishment. Fuck off.”

A blinding fury takes over my body, just like when I hurt Ethan the other day.

It’s as if I'm not even myself anymore.

I grab the front of his shirt and hit him as hard as I can.

“Damien!  **Stop it!** Stop, you’ll hurt my dad…!"

I let his dad go and he stumbles backwards. I look down at Josiah, who has fear in his eyes. Not just for himself, but for his father.

"What?!" I yell at him a little harsher than intended, "Why the fuck wouldn’t you want me to beat his ass? After what he's done to you?!"

"D-Damien…" He stutters, tears in his eyes, "Please s-stop it…"

I leave my hands in fists, in case his dad tries anything.

" **Get the fuck out of here** ." I say to him as he stumbles into an upright position.

"You know, as soon as I can, I’m taking you back. Your mother would be so pissed at you for leaving me.” He warns Josiah.

We stand in silence and watch him get into his car and drive away. Hopefully, that's the last we will see of him. But I doubt it.

As soon as he's out of sight, I turn to Josiah and ask, "Are you okay?"

Josiah doesn’t reply. He just looks stunned.

I gently take his hand and lead him to the car.

He seems like he's gone into another catatonic-like state.

I start panicking, my hands shaking as I buckle him and I up.

What did I just do…?

He's  _ never _ going to forgive me.

...

I take him home and lead him up to my room, making sure to lock the door behind us.

I sit our bags on the bed and sit down with him on the couch.

I pull a blanket over our laps and pull him to me, hugging him as gently as possible.

I play with his hair and say softly, "He's gone. It’s okay."

He chokes out a strained sob, “I-I sh-should be with him, h-he’s my father. What the hell am I h-here for?

"Josiah.” I say as forcefully as I think I can without scaring him.

"You shouldn't be with someone that  _ hurts _ you. It doesn't matter if he's your father. He doesn't deserve you, okay? You have to be safe. Not scared all of the time." I say to him again, for what seems like the millionth time.

“He needs m-me. He gets angry when I-I go away, and he m-might be s-sad, or hurt s-someone…”

"I don't fucking care. I need you more. Stay with me. Please."

If he left, he would be dead.

“I don’t know…” His eyes land on the floor.

I can't hold it back anymore.

Everything I’ve been pushing down the past few days starts coming out.

My whole body is fucking shaking and it gets hard to breathe.

"Josiah, I..." I choke back a sob and quickly put a hand over my mouth.

_ Jesus Christ. _

I can't do this.

If he left… 

“What? A-Are you okay…? I’m sorry, I-I just- I don’t know w-what to do…”

I keep a hand over my mouth. I have to get it together.

I just shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.

We sit in silence for a moment, until I can finally manage to say, "Please stay here. Where it’s safe." It comes out really rough, as if I've not spoken in years instead of mere seconds. You can almost hear the tears in my voice.

“I s-still think you need to...to stop worrying about me… Y-You’re already stressed, and it’s n-not good for your-”

I pull myself together and pull away from him, cutting him off before he can start lecturing me.

"I’ll  _ never _ quit worrying about you. Because I love you. And the idea of anything happening to you and I didn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe… It kills me. I'm not going to force you to stay with me. It’s ultimately your choice. This isn't kidnapping. But,  **please** . Please don't go back."

He pulls me back to him again and hugs me tightly. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll stop s-saying it. I won’t bring it up again.”

I let out a thank you and attempt to yet again pull myself back together slightly.

If anything ever happened to him…

I don't know what I would do.

Suddenly there's a knock on the door, and I bolt up and away from him.

"Damien?" I hear my mom say from outside.

"Uh, don't come in. I'm… **_naked_ ** ?"

_ Fucking idiot. _

**_Stupid_ ** _. _

_ Oh my god,  _ **_I'm dumb_ ** _. _

"Right. Well, when you’re done...with that, could you come downstairs and help me finish getting some pictures done? There's so much left and I don't know…"

"Of course, mom. I'll be downstairs in a second."

I hear her walk away and I look at Josiah, whose eyes are wide.

He lets out a snicker, " _ Naked _ ? Why on earth would you be  **_naked_ ** ?"

I shrug. "I panicked. I’m going to go help her. Will you be okay up here on your own?"

He nods, "I-I guess so… I have homework to do."

I force a smile and leave him in my room alone.

I try my best to quickly pull myself together, because tomorrow is going to be one of the hardest days of my life.

…

-Saturday, November 6th-

I stand in my mirror, tying my tie again so that it looks just right.

With each second that gets closer to the viewing and the service, the more terrified I am.

I would rather be  **anywhere** else.

The idea of being around groups of people who pretend they cared about him, and then they cry and expect me to cry and it’s just a fucking mess.

I can't do it.

I pull my flask from my pocket and take a long drink, despite it only being 9 a.m.

I don't fucking care anymore.

I hear a knock on my door and Josiah says, "Damien, I don't know how to tie a tie…"

I slip the flask back in my pocket and I unlock my door.

He smiles at me sheepishly. He is in a suit that Pierre went and got him.

He looks really,  **really** good.

I pull him into the room and lock the door behind him.

Before he can question it, I grab the tie he has draped around the back of his neck and I pull him into a rough kiss.

His eyes go wide but he quickly falls into it.

Oh my god, I would rip his clothes off right now…

He pulls away quickly, his face flushes. "D-Damien, we have to leave soon, and…"

I keep him pulled against me.

I just want to fucking feel  **something** .

I look down at him and sigh.

"Alright..." I quickly tie his tie for him and say, "You look amazing."

His blush deepens and he mutters, "Thanks. I'm not really sure why I have to go. It’s going to be weird that I’m there. I didn’t know him, and I won’t know anyone there, and people will wonder who I am, and..."

I take his hand. "Please. I don't know if I can do this without you."

He just nods, and I mutter, "I wish I could hold your hand while we are there." 

To my surprise, he pulls me into a tight hug.

"I know you aren’t allowed to hold my hand, but I will be there next to you the whole time. S-So, at least we’ll be together."

"Thank you." I say into his shoulder. 

I don't know if I can do this.

I don't know how I’m going to get through this alone.

I can't.

But I have to.

I finally let go of him when there is a knock on my door.

"Are you two ready?" I hear my mother ask through the door.

I quickly button my suit jacket and open the door.

My mothers in a stunning, floor length black dress, looking like a widow thats on her fourth fucking husband.

She never does anything half-way.

This funeral had to have cost a ton of money, it’s going to be fucking fancy as hell.

Just another reason to hate it.

I nod and we head out.

My mother drives the three of us over there in complete silence.

I make sure to sit beside Josiah in the back, and even though we can’t hold hands or anything, I rest my leg against his, hoping he notices the meaning in this tiny touch.

He seems anxious.

I don't blame him.

I shouldn't have forced this on him anyway.

**Stupid** . 

If I was a better boyfriend, he wouldn't be here.

Well, actually if I was a better boyfriend, I could hold his fucking hand at my father’s funeral.

This is all going way too quickly.

_ Him...dying _ .

Then this funeral seemingly immediately after.

And then what? 

I’m supposed to fucking  **move on** ?

Is that it?

How does one move on from losing their own father?

And it's not like he was sick.

Or dying any quicker than anyone else.

No.

He just... **_died_ ** . And that was that.

I still can’t believe it.

"Damien." I hear Josiah say, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turn to him. "Yeah?"

Worry laces seemingly every bit of his body, from his expression down to his very posture.

He’s sitting on the edge of the seat, as if ready to pull me into a hug at a moment's notice.

"We're here..."

I turn to look and my mom, who got out of the car and is waiting for me outside.

Shit.

We quickly get out and I offer her my arm.

She graciously takes it, leaning on me with one arm and holding her dress off the ground with the other.

The funeral is in the church my mom makes me go to sometimes.

I walk her in. 

The viewing starts in fifteen minutes, so the place is empty right now.

I do not want to have to stand up there. Just the two of us.

**At all.**

Not in the slightest.

But I have to.

I have to do this, or I'll never forgive myself.

Josiah trails behind me.

I really shouldn't have made him come.

He's going to be miserable.

_ I'm so stupid. _

But the idea of him not being here…

I couldn’t handle this without him.

Hell, I can hardly handle this  _ with _ him here.

My mother and I walk up to the casket, which, praise God, is closed.

I don't want to have to see him dead.

I want to remember him alive. And smiling.

Not the way he is now.

As soon as she gets up to the casket, she puts a hand on the lid and says something so quietly that I can’t even hear her.

It doesn't matter. I know it wasn’t meant for me anyway.

I just stop a few feet from the casket and stare at it.

Inside the stupidly ornate box is my father.

**_Dead_ ** .

As soon as I can  _ accept that, _ then I can start  _ moving on... _

At least that's what people say.

I don't know if that's true.

As of right now, I can't imagine being okay with this...

**Ever** .

I turn slightly and see that Josiah has sat himself down about six pews back.

One of the funeral curators and a priest approach my mother, my guess is to discuss something with the service and she leaves the room quickly with them.

I turn and sit down beside Josiah.

"H-How are you doing...?" He asks. 

I just look over at him.

"I-I mean... I know you’re not okay, obviously, but… Sorry, that was a dumb question… Forget about it."

I look around, and no one's near us.

I slip my hand over his and say quietly, "Thank you for being here. Really. It means the world to me."

He looks down at our hands then at the church around us.

"Do you think we'll go to hell for dating each other? Isn’t that what you said about  **_the gays_ ** ?”

I manage a chuckle. "I don't care if we are anymore. It would be worth it, I think."

He smiles at me brightly and the dark cloud around me lightens ever so slightly.

I get up and say, “Will you sit with us? Up front?"

“Will your mother be okay with that…?" He questions.

"I don't care if she is or not.  _ Please _ ." I say, offering him a hand up.

"Of course. Whatever you want."

He takes my hand up and follows me to the front row. 

We sit there in silence until my mother returns and we have to stand at the casket, as people are slowly beginning to file in the church.

And file in they do.

I didn't realize how many people my father knew, but the huge church slowly fills with a mix of rough and tumble criminals to high end members of society, to police officers.

It’s like the entire fucking city has shown up to say  _ goodbye _ .

I don't know if it’s beautiful, or a pain in the ass.

...A little bit of both.

I shake hands and give hugs to every single person that comes through the line, none of them wanting to be here anymore than me, and most of them crying.

I don't cry. I keep my mask up.

Smile when they make polite small talk.

Look sad when they say  _ I’m sorry for your loss. _

Glace over to Josiah every so often, who just watches the entire thing with a wary gaze.

I'm so glad he's here.

Thankfully, the funeral starts quickly.

The sooner it starts, the sooner we can get through this.

A huge ass organ begins to play, and me and my mother take out seats, my mom on my right and Josiah on my left.

The priest begins mumbling on and I tune him out, unable to tear my eyes away from the casket in front of me.

I don't want to be here.

_ This can't be real. _

This isn’t happening.

My mind goes a billion places and nowhere all at once, and I try desperately to focus on anything.

But I can't.

After a while, my mother takes my hand, snapping me out of it. I turn and look at her and she has silent tears pouring down her face.

I stay emotionless. I can’t muster up the energy for anything else.

But I let her hold my hand. It seems to make her feel better.

Soon enough, the service ends and Josiah, my mother, and I are whisked away and into a hearse with my father's body.

And soon enough Josiah is pulling me out of the car and back out into the cold weather.

It's freezing outside.

I'm not sure when it got so cold, but it feels more like winter now than fall.

I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets and I help my mother over to the gravesite.

Someone brought her a chair, thankfully.

I stand beside her as the priest again says some religious shit that seems to make the people around us feel better.

After this, we have to go to a huge dining hall and pretend everything is okay, because why not have some sort of fucking party after someone died? 

I don't know. But I know there will be alcohol and I will be drinking a lot of it.

I watch as they lower his casket into the six foot deep hole in the ground.

My mother, and the rest of the people eventually leave, but I stay back and watch them begin to shovel dirt onto his casket.

The more dirt that gets piled onto his casket, the less I seemingly am able to feel.

I can't do this.

I finally force myself to meet the other two in the car, who both stare at me with worry in their eyes.

So, I look out the window.

And hope to God the day passes quickly.

...

The meal afterwards is by far the worst part.

From people coming up and again making polite useless small talk to people crying as they relive their best memories of my father, the entire time is horrible.

All I want to do is go home.

Go home and fall asleep.

_ Forever. _

Josiah stays directly beside me the entire time.

I hardly say anything to him all day, but I’m constantly looking to my right to make sure he hasn’t left. Each time I see him beside me, the panic in my head seems to lessen slightly.

I don't know what I would do without him.

End


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Josiah's P.O.V

-Saturday, November 6th-

During the whole thing, Damien keeps checking on me over and over again, almost as if I was going to vanish, or something. 

He also seems to know that I don’t want to be here at all. 

Not that anyone who is here wants anything to do with this, but… I really don’t feel right being here.

These people cared about Damien’s father. All of them do. 

But I don’t, and I never have.

I don’t care about anyone other than Damien, which, I guess...that’s why I’m here…

**_For him_ ** .

I knew from the moment I saw the casket that this was all going to be plain awful. I wanted to run and hide from the very moment we came in here… 

But Damien needed me.

When we went outside, that was the worst part. It was cold and everyone was just crying. I was surprised to find that Damien didn’t really cry, though.

I can’t imagine what he’s going through...

I choose not to eat anything at the dinner, of course. I just stick by Damien’s side and try to smile at him every time he looks at me. He seemed to be too busy dealing with people giving their condolences and trying to talk to him, since he doesn’t eat anything, either. 

I wish he would have eaten something. It’s super unhealthy to skip meals and then drink alcohol, which I know he will do.

If he hasn’t already today. 

I know it’s bad, but… I’m not going to mention it. Arguing about it on the day of his father’s funeral sounds just awful. I won’t dare to. 

Even though it might…

No.

No. I need to change my way of thinking.

I need to at least try to be good for him.

If it doesn’t work out, I’ll find a way to get punished. But, as of right now, I just need to try as hard as I can to be good.

After the whole thing is over, we go home…  _ Back to his house _ , and I follow him to his bedroom.

As soon as we’re inside, he shuts the door and locks it.

I go to ask him if he wants to just lay down and finally get some rest, but he puts both hands on my waist and pulls me against him, kissing me deeply. All before I can even begin to say anything.

_ Okay _ .

We’re trying this again.

I kiss back, clutching on to his shoulders for a moment, before wrapping my arms around his neck when he made no move to stop kissing me.

I’ll be good.

Then everything will be okay.

He must really need physical contact, after us basically not being allowed to touch all day…

He holds me tighter, plucking me off of the ground and breaking the kiss for only a second to breathe before continuing. 

What...the fuck?

I ignore the fear building inside of me and trace my fingers into his hair, pressing his head closer.

I love kissing him.

I’ll focus on that.

He starts walking forward, laying me down on the bed and climbing on to me, kisses trailing down my neck.

Fuck.

**No** .

No, no...

He supports himself with one arm and his other hand slips under my shirt.

“U-Uh… Damien-” I try to stop him.

My skin heats up.

I can’t breathe...

He silences me by kissing my lips again, his hand running up and down my torso a few times before he stops and pulls his dress shirt off. 

_ He has a nice body… _

Uh.

“I don’t want to go further…S-Stop.” I tell him.

I shouldn’t tell him to stop, but...

He seems deaf to my words anyway, starting to unbutton my shirt so he can have easier access.

My hands slip between us, pushing his shoulders slightly.

I’m not allowed to get away.

I feel trapped.

I can’t move.

I can’t... **_breathe_ ** …

“DAMIEN!” I scream, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

He kisses my neck one more time before pulling away and staring wide-eyed at me. 

My hands are shaking, so I press them against my chest. I turn my head away from Damien, closing my eyes tightly.

“No more...s-stop…  **Please** .” I manage shakily.

"Oh my god. I am so sorry." He sits upright.

I stay down, unable to move, desperately trying to breathe.

“Don’t... _ touch _ anymore. No m-more. N-No.” I tangle my fingers into my hair and curl my knees up, shaking my head.

He seems upset.

I feel bad.

“I-I’m sorry. If y-you really want to, then g-go ahead. I...I shouldn’t st-stop you.” I quickly correct myself.

I should be used to it. 

Suck it up and fucking deal with it… 

I need to stop saying  _ no _ to him.

He gets off the bed as if to give me more space, observing from afar. 

"I can't believe I did that. I am so,  **so** sorry Josiah… I don't… I..." I hear him begin to pace the room.

“Don’t feel b-bad. Y-You c-can do whatever you want. I know you’re having a hard time... a-and I s-s-should stop complaining and h-help you.” I force out.

I look over at him, terrified of what he was doing just a second ago, and yet, about to beg him to come back. 

He stops in his tracks. "No, I'm so fucking stupid. I can't believe I did that to you. You deserve so much better… I…" He begins pacing again, clearly distraught.

Damn it, I’m awful…

Such a basic human need, and a crucial part of a relationship, but I won’t even do it.

“Get...b-back over here. Now. L-Let’s try to k-keep going.” I stare, verging on a meltdown and trying to keep tears at bay.

He shakes his head at me.

“Damien, I...don’t want y-you to-to feel bad. You c-can do whatever you want. I- Really…” I tell him, but he seems to know full well that I’m lying to him.

He stops pacing, instead kneeling beside the bed.

He looks up at me.

"I'm sorry, Josiah. I’m so sorry. I didn't mean for it… I just wanted to feel some-" He cuts himself off and buries his face in his hands, leaning his head on the bed.

He’s so close. I back off slightly, against my own will.

“I’ll  **never** feel s-safe. That r-really is not your fault at a-all. We m-might as well do whatever y-you want.” I tell him.

I hate that I am this way. 

I hate everything about this.

I think I was so damn jealous earlier because I know he deserves better, someone who isn’t...like  _ this _ . 

Someone he feels okay with holding hands in public with, and someone who he can actually touch without him having to feel bad for doing so.

Someone who can make him feel better. 

Why can’t I be those things for him?

I don’t take my eyes off of him, my brain alert, ready to be hurt again. 

Fuck you, you stupid brain…

It’s just Damien. I should feel safe with him. His touches should be the good ones.

When Damien sees me back away from him, he lifts his head to look at me, but he doesn't move other than that.

“What do  **_you_ ** want t-to do? I’ll comply, I s-swear.” I promise him. 

"I just want you to be happy." He cries.

“Well, I just b-believe that we should d-do wh-whatever you want to do. Why do y-you think that me being  _ happy _ c-ch-changes anything?” 

He looks down again. "I don't want to do things with you if you are not 100% comfortable with it. I want to wait. Until you’re happy with it. I don't want to do anything with you just because it's what I want. I want you to want it, too."

I shake my head. “I…” I take in a shuddering breath before continuing, “What if I never do? That’s not fair to you."

"Then, I guess we don't do anything other than kiss." He says, trying to stop his tears.

“B-But,  **_this_ ** ,” I gesture to myself, “Will happen, every s-single time.” I cross my arms and look away from him again. I hate this.

"It's okay. It's worth it. To be with you. It's worth it.  _ I'll be okay _ . I'll just have more self control next time, I swear."

I wipe my eyes.

“C-Can I button my shirt back up and then we just lay down and go to sleep…?” I ask him first.

I don’t think he’s actually okay with it.

Damien forces himself up and says to me, "Put some pajamas on first. I'll change in the bathroom. Just tell me when you’re done." He grabs some clothes and leaves to lock himself in the bathroom.

...Should I go sleep in my room instead...? 

I, uh…feel like I might be  _ tempting _ him too much…?

I’m not good at acknowledging where something is going and stopping it before it happens.

With my father, my aunt, the bullies at school… I just let them do whatever they want. Damien won’t let me be that way.

Or maybe I should stop letting him know when things are going too far altogether so he won’t feel bad for it anymore…?

No… I could get stuck in that constant cycle of being attacked over and over again if I do that...

Maybe that cycle is where I belong?

I get up and get some clothes, changing before going up to the door.

I knock on the bathroom door. Damien opens it a moment later.

“I think I’m going to go sleep in the other room… I need to get used to it, actually.” I scratch at my arm.

His eyes go sad again. "Oh, alright. Whatever you want is fine…"

I can’t do anything right. He is still upset…

I nod. “Goodnight. Try to get some sleep, please.” I tell him, before turning and leaving. 

I already know that I’m not going to be able to sleep.

End


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53-

Damien's P.O.V

-Saturday, November 6th-

I stand in the bathroom doorway and watch him walk back to his room, shutting the door behind him.

I stay in the door for a moment.

I can’t believe what I just did.

What the fuck was going through my head…?

I almost…

I could have…

I go back into the bathroom and sit on the side of the tub, my hands beginning to shake.

_ I was just as bad as his father. _

**_I almost_ ** …

Oh God.

My dad dies, then  _ this _ ?

Without Josiah… I have nothing.

**_I am nothing_ ** .

Why the hell am I trying to push him away like this?

I bury my head in my hands.

I need to get a grip.

I get up and put a hand on each side of my sink, taking myself in the mirror.

I hardly recognize myself.

The dark circles under my eyes have only worsened, my eyes bloodshot and red from crying.

I’m such a fucking mess.

I turn and punch the wall beside the mirror.

My knuckles split on impact, still not being completely healed from hitting Josiah's dad the other day.

I punch a fucking hole in my bathroom wall and I sigh.

_ I'm so fucking stupid. _

I leave my room and go downstairs.

I grab three bottles of whatever I can get my hands on and I climb out onto my roof.

I can't do this.

I open my first bottle, some wine to start my night off right.

I take a drink and it warms me up slightly.

It’s fucking cold out here, especially on my bare feet and arms.

But I can’t go back in.

The house feels so suffocating, with Josiah so close but so untouchable.

With my mother crying herself to sleep alone in her bedroom.

With my dad buried in a cemetery ten miles from here.

I still can't wrap my brain around the fact that he's  **gone** .

What now?

What's next for me? I just move on? Leave my mother to run the company and live  _ alone _ ?

Or do I stay, and do as I'm told.

And if so, where does that leave Josiah?

Oh, God... Josiah.

What I did tonight rushes into my head again and forces me to drink some more.

I’m so fucking tired.

More so emotionally than physically. Which is saying something.

I just want to…

_ I want to  _ **_disappear_ ** _. _

They would be better off.

They really would.

I take a swig and finally begin to feel the wine set in.

Everyone would be better off if I was buried where he was.

Maybe then they could be happy.

If it wasn't for Josiah not having anywhere to go...

I look up at the stars and wonder if I’m ever going to be happy again.

I wonder if they're sad, too.

Being so far away and having to just watch insignificant people like me contemplate my life and drink it away.

Being up there so high and not being able to do a thing to help us.

**_It must be terribly lonely, being a star_ ** . 

God... 

I need to go to bed.

But, I know I won’t be able to sleep without him.

So I guess drinking till the sun comes up is the only option.

Maybe if I stay out here, the stars and I won't feel quite so lonely tonight.

…

-Sunday, November 7th-

I go in after a few hours, getting way too cold and way too drunk to be out there.

I grab my guitar, the alcohol not doing enough.

I need to be able to breathe again…

It's like I haven't breathed since my mom called me and told me he was in the hospital.

I sit on my bed and strum softly. As my fingers glide against the strings, I feel my head clear slightly.

I'm glad I have my music.

I look around and get anxious again.

This room is so suffocating.

I take the guitar with me and head downstairs.

When I make it to the bottom of the stairs, I see my mom opening the liquor cabinet and grabbing a bottle of wine, a glass already in hand.

She turns around and almost drops it.

"Damien! You scared me! Where are you going?"

"I'm just… Going outside. The house feels really suffocating."

"What's that on your back?" She asks, pouring a second glass. I’m assuming it’s for me.

I've already had a lot...

But, what the fuck why not?

I put a hand on my guitar that I slung on my back.

"It's just my guitar," I say quietly, "It helps me think."

" _ Helps you  _ **_think_ ** ?" She echos.

"Yeah."

"Sit down with me. Have a drink. I’m sure you could use it after today." 

She sits at the dining room table.

"I think I'm just going to go outside…"

"I wasn't asking, Damien. **Sit down** ."

I take my guitar off my back and sit it on the table in front of us.

I grab the glass she sat in front of me and I take a drink, not sure what else I can do.

"You know, Damien, I think it's time for you to step up in both the company, and your family. You're the man of the house now. And in a year's time, if you work really hard, you could take your father’s place." She stares at the guitar on the table in front of us.

I had to tell her at some point.

I can't do this anymore.

" _ I don't want to _ ." I look at the floor.

"Excuse you? _Don't want to do_ **_what_** , exactly?!"

Shit…

"Look at me, Damien!"

I look at her and realize she has a hand on the neck of my guitar.

... **_No_ ** .

I get up and start to grab the guitar off the table, but before I can, she snatches it up and backs away.

"Mom, what are you doing?" I ask her, putting my hands up a bit as if trying to calm a frightened animal.

She's holding one of the two things that make me happy…

Tears begin pouring down my face, unwarranted.

"I will not let you tear this family apart, Damien!" She looks so mad.

She's holding everything I need right now.

" **Please** _put that down,_ mom..." I beg, " **Please**! It really helps, and…"

"No! I need you to listen to me! Maybe this," She says, holding it away from me, "Will make you understand that you're pushing this family apart."

I can't stop myself.

" _ Pushing this family apart _ ? You and your  **God** have been doing that since day one! Don't try to put this on me! We haven't been a family... **_ever_ ** !"

She looks at me coldly, something in her fave showing me she's fucking lost it this time.

Before I can react, she slams my guitar into the liqor cabinet behind her.

“Mom!” I yell, running over to her.

She holds up the remains of my guitar between us, as if she's going to hit me with it. All that's left is the neck and a splintered part of the body.

"It’s time for you to grow up, Damien. You’re  **_eighteen_ ** . Act like it.”

I put my hands up to cover my head, unable to quit crying.

After a moment she throws the rest of the broken instrument into the pile of rubble that was the liquor cabinet.

She grabs my chin so I have to look at her.

I'm still crying…

"You shouldn't be dependent on anything Damien. Because it will just get taken from you. Being dependent is weakness. Do you understand?"

I nod, biting my lip to hold back sobs.

The one thing that can calm me…

**Gone** .

Just like everything else important to me.

**_Gone_ ** .

What's left?!

What else can she take from me?

" **Answer me** !" She screams into my face, "Use your words!"

"I-I understand." I sniffle.

She slaps me on the face then lets me go.

I back away from her, my cheek stinging. I put a cold hand on the patch of skin that's already probably turning red, trying to take the heat from it.

"You're  **weak** , Damien. And that's all you'll  _ ever be _ . I don't know why I try with you. You're a lost cause."

She then stomps past me and goes into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

My trembling hands curl into fists and I punch the wall beside the cabinet.

It’s better than  _ hitting  _ **_her_ ** _. _

Why the fuck would she take away one of the only things that makes me happy?!

I grab my earbuds and phone from my pocket with shaky hands, blasting Falling In Reverse, hoping I can drown everything out.

It’s not the same as playing it myself. 

I walk out of the house and get on my motorcycle, not sure where I’m going until I get there.

I find myself at the graveyard my father was buried in literally only yesterday.

It still doesn't feel... _ real _ .

How can someone who’s been in my life since I was born, just suddenly be... **gone** ?

I park and walk up to the grave, standing beside the still fresh dirt on top.

Tears fill my eyes. “I don’t know what to do. With mom. You always handled her, and now that you're gone… I can't do this."

I don’t know if I’m trying to talk to him, or to just the universe. Or, if there’s a god out there, trying to talk to it.

I sit down and run a hand over the letters on the tombstone.

Maybe I should give this God thing a shot.

Maybe if I prayed…everything would be okay.

Maybe if I just blink, this will all be over.

I shut my eyes and keep them closed as tight as I can.

“Please...” I say quietly, not sure what else I could say, " _ Please _ . Stop all of this.  **_Please_ ** ."

If there is a god out there, let this not be real.

Let everything be okay again.

I open my eyes and my hand is still on the cold stone, my fingers looping through the last name  **_Cohen_ ** .

Tears that have been seemingly nonstop since this started, and right now is no exception.

So much for a god that hears you everywhere.

If there is such a thing, it abandoned me a long fucking time ago.

The thing is, I wasn’t okay before now, and I won’t be okay after this.

Because this sadness isn’t going anywhere until I... **_get rid_ ** **of it** .

Until I get rid of me.

I can’t handle this anymore.

What am I staying for anyway?

One word goes through my head.

_ Josiah _ .

If only someone else could take care of him, then I could finally get some quiet.

My brain feels like it’s going to explode.

If only…

If I can find someone to keep an eye on him, to take him in…

I wrack my brain.

_ Pierre _ .

He can take him in.

Josiah already knows him, and Pierre could handle it.

I should go ask him right now, and as soon as he says  _ yes _ ...I can quit.

I stare at the grave in front of me.

Is this really what I want?

All I know is that I’m so tired, and there’s no way out for me.

I’ll be stuck in this business, and family, and religion  **_forever_ ** .

And if the only way to escape is… _ killing myself _ ...

Then I guess that’s what I have to do.

As long as someone is here for Josiah.

After what I did to him yesterday, it’s not safe for him to be around me anymore.

I can’t control myself with him.

He’s better off without me.

They all are.

Pierre would have left this job forever ago if it wasn’t for me.

And my mother has made it clear, if I’m not in the business, I’m not her son.

I’m too  _ weak  _ to be her son.

Then they can move on and maybe they can all be happy.

Maybe as soon as I go, they’ll be free, too.

I force myself up, despite the fact that my whole body is shaking.

I get on my bike and drive over to Pierre’s house.

I knock, then realize it’s four a.m.

Hopefully, he’ll hear me.

I knock again, louder this time and I see his bedroom window light up.

He peeks out from behind his curtain, and once he recognizes that it’s me, he quickly comes to the door.

I’m still shaking, and it’s very obvious I was just crying, I'm sure.

He swings the door open. “Damien? What are you doing without a coat on?! It’s freezing! Come in!”

I guess it is cold. I didn’t notice until he said so.

He steps back to let me in, but I shake my head.

“What are you doing here?”

I feel tears start to silently go down my face again. “I need to ask you something.”

As soon as he sees my tears, he tries to hug me.

I back away from him. “No. I need you to listen to me right now, Pierre. It’s important.”

He stays in the doorway. “Please come inside, Damien. We can talk all you want.”

“I need you to promise to look after Josiah for me.”

“What? Why?” He looks worried, “Why can’t you look after him?”

Shit.

I can’t just tell him I’m planning on killing myself.

“Um... My mom’s going to have me take over the business, and I need to know that, if anything happened, you would look after him. For me.” I lie.

_ Please believe it… _

He shakes his head. “Yeah. Of course I'll look after him. You really seem like you need to come inside, maybe get some sleep. When was the last time you slept? Or ate?”

“I… I don’t know.” I admit.

He looks sad. “Damien, please.”

I can’t take his kindness right now.

“Promise me, Pierre...” I cry, “Promise me you’ll look after him.”

“I  _ promise _ .” He agrees again.

I’m... _ free _ .

I could go right now and…

“Damien? Are you okay? Please just…”

I shake my head and force a smile at him. “I’m fine, Pierre. Go back to sleep. I’m going to go home.”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Well, I am.” I say, starting to leave.

He grabs my arm, tears in his eye now. “Damien, whatever you’re thinking about...we all love you very much, and…”

I pull my arm away. “I love you, too, Pierre. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

**_Lie_ ** .

I’m never going to see him again.

If I hug him, or go inside, I might lose my nerve.

He watches me go, get on my bike, and leave.

I don’t look back at him once as I speed home.

I can’t leave Josiah like this.

I need to make up for what I did somehow.

I need to give him something good to remember, before I go.

End


End file.
